<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Smile, You're on Camera! by Anonymous</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27591035">Smile, You're on Camera!</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work, Voltron: Legendary Defender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anonymous Sex, Blackmail, Bukkake, Chikan, Cock Slut, Creampie, Exhibitionism, Exposure, Facials, Flashing, Forced Orgasm, Free Use, Glory Hole, Groping, Group Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Humiliation, Public Nudity, Public Sex, Rimming, Rough Oral Sex, Sex Toys, Sex for Favors, Somnophilia, Stranger Sex, Train Sex, Voyeurism, Webcam/Video Chat Sex, streaking</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:29:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>25,239</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27591035</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Keith was fifteen-years old and lonely at high school. </p><p>After luring him into appearing naked on webcam, Shiro was able to blackmail Keith. It started tame at first . . . a little nudity here, some streaking there . . . but soon Keith was on his knees in a train carriage, as he took every cock offered to him by strangers and teachers alike. He was scared at first, but now he just wanted <i>more</i>.</p><p>He wanted cock. He wanted to be <i>used</i>.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Iverson/Keith (Voltron), Keith &amp; Shiro (Voltron), Keith (Voltron)/Original Male Character(s), Keith/Lance (Voltron)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>230</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Shiro - Streaking</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hey, ah, is this thing on?”</p><p>Keith adjusted the web-camera. It was shiny and new, with a chrome finish that almost glittered in the sunlight, and its lens whirred each time it adjusted to short or long distance, until Keith finally set back in his chair and took place in front of his desk. The screen showed Shiro clear as day, where he sat in his instructor uniform straight from work at the Garrison Academy, and – <em>finally</em> – the box underneath showed Keith with crystal-clear ultra-HD.</p><p>He peeked just over the camera and monitor. The window was just behind the desk, which allowed for an equally perfect view into the house opposite, and Shiro – with his desk also beneath his window – waved at Keith with an energetic gesture. It was maybe all of ten feet between them. The fence that marked the boundary was long gone, knocked down by a storm and forgotten about in the years since, and both bedrooms were located on the ground floor, meaning that it would have been easier to speak in person than it was online.</p><p>The bedrooms came complete with a set of French doors, which meant Shiro sometimes would knock at the weekends and offer to help Keith with his homework, and Keith – with a blush – would usually allow Shiro entry . . . as a child he would sit on Shiro’s lap, but now he was a teenager Shiro would lean over him instead. It always left him feeling enveloped by the warm and firm chest, while the chin would rest lightly on the top of his head.</p><p>“Hey, Keith,” said Shiro. “I can see you!”</p><p>“Thank for helping me get my webcam working.” Keith smiled. “It gets so difficult here, you know? My mom’s out of the country again for work, and my dad’s working mega intense shifts, and I swear half the time it’s like I’m here all alone with just my dad as a roommate or something. I mean . . . it’s nice with you . . . it’s nice to have someone I can depend on.”</p><p>“Well, I’m here for you any time, Keith. You know that.”</p><p>“I’m glad someone is . . . I was starting to get lonely. They – They’re still bullying me at school, like calling me names and blaming me for anything that goes wrong, and I think Iverson might have some weird kind of thing for me? Lance says I should offer to blow him, as he’d take me up on it, but . . . but that I’m already getting straight As, so what would be the point.”</p><p>“Lance just sounds jealous of you, Keith.”</p><p>“He dares me to do stuff sometimes . . . like, stupid stuff . . . like I should flash my dick to some of the girls when they walk past, or send him some naked photos, or flirt with Iverson after class to see what he does . . . says I can be a part of his group if I do. I – I almost did a few of them, just so I wouldn’t have to be alone and I could have a friend. I’d kill for a friend.”</p><p>“Why don’t I be your friend, Keith?”</p><p>Keith blinked back tears. It was one thing to have study sessions, or to get paid to cut lawns or run errands, but it was never the same as someone to hang out with . . . someone to play games with, someone to watch movies with . . . a mentor and neighbour wasn’t the same as a <em>friend</em>. It brought a swell to his heart; he rubbed at his chest, while his eyes moved from monitor to window, and his lip trembled in a manner that made talking difficult. He took in a broken breath and forced a smile, as he leaned ever closer to the monitor and asked in a hushed voice:</p><p>“You – You mean that?”</p><p>“Sure,” said Shiro. “We can talk every night around ten o’clock? Your dad seems to get home around eight, crashes into bed at around nine, and he sleeps upstairs at the front of the house, so it’s not as though our conversations down here would disturb him. We can talk all night long, if you want . . . just me, you, and our cameras. It’ll be fun. You won’t be alone.”</p><p>“You know what? I – I have some video games, too! I could put the webcam on and we could play . . . I don’t know . . . play together sometime? I never got to try the two-player mode on some, and even though I know I could just let you in to play . . . well . . .”</p><p>“It’s hotter over cam, is that it?” Shiro laughed.</p><p>Keith blushed. He must have misheard . . . <em>‘it’s hotter over cam’ . . . </em>there was a lot of talk at school from the other boys, like Lance and Hunk, enough that he knew what it meant to ‘cam’, but the fact remained that Shiro was his teacher and neighbour and now ‘friend’. He furrowed his brow and scratched at his head, while he leaned back in his chair and rested a foot on the edge of the desk. It exposed the length of his leg to the camera, but there was little to show while he was still dressed in his school uniform. Keith tilted his head and asked:</p><p>“I – I don’t get it. Is what hotter?”</p><p>“Don’t worry about it, kid.”</p><p>A smirk broke over Shiro, who leaned back as if in emulation of Keith. He was as handsome as ever, with the white streak hair loose about his face, and the facial scar made him look rough and rugged, like someone who could easily control Keith . . . <em>own</em> Keith . . . it sent a shiver through his spine, as he held back a mewled sound of desire. Shiro laughed, almost as if he caught the sound through the microphone, but said nothing about even as he chirped out:</p><p>“So, Keith, tell me about your day . . .”</p><p>* * *</p><p>“And that’s what Lance said that I should –”</p><p>Keith stopped. He stared hard at the screen, as Shiro unbuttoned his shirt. The way he moved about the kitchen, holding his phone in his hand, made the image jerk and shake, but soon Shiro slipped off his shirt and tossed it into the washing machine. He busied himself tidying the newly renovated space, while barely casting his eyes to the screen, but – after so long of silence – he finally did a double-take and looked back to the screen, as he said casually:</p><p>“Oh, hey, am I embarrassing you?”</p><p>A smile broke over Shiro, as he angled his phone upward. It showed his muscular chest in full view, as he made his solid pectoral muscles dance in a hypnotic rhythm, before he lifted his arm and flexed to showcase a bulging bicep. Shiro kissed at the muscle, before he left the kitchen and headed into the bathroom. He placed the phone strategically on a cabinet. The lens caught the mirror behind him, so that Keith could steal a look at his back and clothed buttocks.</p><p>“Er, no . . . <em>no</em>,” said Keith. “I – it’s – ah . . . it’s okay.”</p><p>Shiro whispered an ‘awesome’. He squirted some oil into his palm, before rubbing it over his muscles with slow massaging touches, and – with a blush – Keith gulped to see that those long fingers lingered over hard and erect nipples, seeming to catch the nubs between his fingers. A hiss of breath escaped Shiro each time his fingers brushed over them, and there seemed an unnatural amount of time spent on them, so that Keith was barely able to sit still through his throbbing erection. Shiro caught him staring, chuckled, and flexed his pectorals again.</p><p>“I was just going to head into the shower,” said Shiro.</p><p>“Oh, I mean, that makes sense . . .”</p><p>“Your house seems a mirror image of mine. I bet you have the bathroom just off your bedroom, too, right? Your dad probably has the <em>en suite</em>, so you get the whole downstairs to yourself . . . you ever get so hot and sweaty that you just have to strip down, head underneath the water, and soap yourself off? It feels so good to just slide your hands up and down . . .”</p><p>Shiro let loose a low moan, as he tilted his head and stroked at his neck. The way his lips parted spoke of someone who really enjoyed showers, but a small part of Keith . . . a dirty and perverted part, that he squashed down lest he disrespect Shiro by entertaining the idea . . . it thought it looked almost <em>sexual</em>. Keith blushed. He chanced a look into the mirror behind Shiro, where his shorts had fallen low and the curve of buttocks – and a hint of crack – was just starting to peek out from underneath the fabric. Keith mewled beneath his breath. His cock wept.</p><p>“I get so dirty sometimes,” said Shiro. “I think that maybe I’ve been a really bad boy, that I just need to get clean again . . . the water goes all down my naked body, dripping until I’m soaking wet, and I can do <em>anything</em> in that shower, as I know it’ll wash everything away . . . it’s so good.”</p><p>“I – I mean, yeah . . . showers are good, I guess?”</p><p>“Do you get dirty, too, Keith? Are you a dirty boy?” Shiro chuckled. “It’s late and you’re home alone . . . I bet you’ll need a shower soon, won’t you? Why don’t you get ready for one? You can take your shirt off ready for later . . . ready for when you strip down, open a window, and get all nice and soapy and wet inside that shower . . . make sure you leave the window open.”</p><p>The final part of the speech struck a dark nerve. It was some primal fear, one that ran deep and made his stomach churn, and yet perhaps he was reading too much into matters, as Shiro had only ever treated him with respect and kindness support. Keith lowered his head. There was no weight to his body, hidden beneath his shirt, but there were no bulging muscles or toned definition, and he was still slim and developing compared to a petty built grown-man. He hunched over a little and pulled his legs up to his chest, as he mumbled:</p><p>“I guess it’s important to ventilate the bathroom, yeah?”</p><p>Shiro laughed. He slid off his shorts, which he likely thought would be okay with the camera at a slightly higher angle, but the mirror was still behind him. Keith felt tears brim, as his arousal mingled with a fear that he was taking advantage . . . that he should say something . . . his cock was so hard to see chiselled buttocks that you could bounce a quarter from, with that long and shapely penis hanging between parted thighs with a prominent swing. Keith swallowed hard, while he breathed in fast and shallow pants, and Shiro finally said in a warm voice:</p><p>“Oh, aren’t you going to take off your shirt?”</p><p>“Huh?” Keith blinked. “Oh, wait, you were serious?”</p><p>Shiro moved to the shower, where he turned on the water. It was an innocent gesture, one that kept his body mostly off-screen, but – when he turned – he was full frontal in the mirror, so that his cock was prominently on display. It looked a good five-inches half-hard, with a heavy set of balls and a nice curve to it that led a mouth-watering view. Keith squeezed his member between his thighs, as he fought back an agonising erection, and winced with a silent curse when Shiro came back into the view of the camera, so his member could no longer be seen. Shiro chirped:</p><p>“I mean, you’ve seen mine, right? No harm in seeing yours.”</p><p>“I – I guess it’s just my chest, right?”</p><p>“Sure . . . just take your shirt off. You’ll feel much better.”</p><p>A low sigh escaped Keith. He slowly lowered his legs; he took the bottom of his shirt and pulled it overhead, where it mussed his hair and left it looking like he had just woken, and – with a bush – Keith tossed the shirt across his bedroom. He let the camera get a good view of him shirtless, before he let loose a low yelp and jolted his legs back up to hide his chest. Keith lowered his head into his knees. He mumbled a series of apologies, before Shiro gasped out:</p><p>“Wow, you look fucking amazing!”</p><p>“. . . huh?”</p><p>Keith slowly lifted his head. The computer screen showed Shiro with a bright smile, as his blown pupils practically consumed his eyes, and – in the mirror – his member was no longer visible, like he was maybe sporting a full-on erection. Keith beamed with pride. He lowered his legs again and let his chest return to full view, as he tried to awkwardly pose to allow Shiro the best view, as the bathroom filled with steam and started to obscure the lens on Shiro’s end.</p><p>“Hey,” said Shiro. “Send me a photograph later, babe?”</p><p>“Sure, thing, Shiro!”</p><p>* * *</p><p>It was dark inside the bedroom. The only light was the steady glow from the monitor. It cast shadows about his features, which had the strange effect of making him appear younger, and – with a blush – he adjusted his t-shirt and loose shorts to smooth down the creases. He could have passed for a prepubescent in the darkness. He winced. A quick glance over his monitor let him see into Shiro’s bedroom opposite, where the still-broken fence allowed for a clear view.</p><p>The bedroom was an adult bedroom; instead of posters, there were framed photographs, and instead of textbooks, there were classic novels. He spotted plain sheets and pillows, with the walls a classy shade of beige, and everything looked like it belonged in a showroom, with even the ornaments and plants strategically placed for maximum effect. It was a far cry from the huge board in Keith’s room, which contained various photographs and charts and sketches for his science project, and a plush toy still say on his bookcase that Shiro gave him as a child.</p><p>Shiro wasn’t in his bedroom. The image on video-chat showed that he was in his kitchen, where he was shirtless and making a cup of cocoa, and each time he moved those pectoral muscles seemed to bounce with every step, almost as if he bounced them on purpose. Keith squirmed in his seat, as he moved from cheek to cheek and tried to avoid making eye-contact with Shiro through the camera. The racing of his heart blocked out all other sounds, as he choked out:</p><p>“I – I don’t feel comfortable showing you . . . <em>that</em>.”</p><p>A low laugh escaped Shiro, who placed his phone down on his counter. It was set at an angle to showcase the whole kitchen, complete with Shiro who wore low-hanging sweat-pants that revealed a great deal of his happy-trail, along with his crack when he turned. He busied himself about tidying up the sink, but – as he turned on the faucet – a spurt of water splashed all over his toned and muscular chest, before it dripped down onto washboard abdominal muscles. Keith bit his lip to hold back a moan, as Shiro turned to the camera – still wet – and said:</p><p>“You looked so gorgeous last night, though.”</p><p>“You – You mean the shirtless picture.”</p><p>“Yeah, like, that was a killer.” Shiro licked his lips. “I just thought it’d be nice to see how the rest of you looks, you know? I mean, if you don’t trust me . . . I get it . . . I mean, I won’t say that it doesn’t hurt when we’ve been chatting for weeks, but I’d get it. I’m just your neighbour, after all, it’s not as though we’re friends, I guess . . . I – I <em>thought</em> we were, but –”</p><p>“We – We <em>are</em> friends, Shiro! We are!”</p><p>“Are we? It’s just one picture. I mean, I’ve already seen your shirtless, right? I don’t think seeing the rest is a big leap . . . it’s only a little bit more. Still, it’s your choice. I’d never want to force you or pressure you to do something that makes you uncomfortable, even if it’d be fun . . .”</p><p>Shiro lowered his head with an exaggerated wince. The smile left his face, while he offered a long sigh that spoke of disappointment, and – added to that – he reached instinctively for his dressing gown that hung on a nearby stool . . . he whispered about not being trusted, about how uncomfortable he felt showing his body when Keith would not show his . . . Keith blinked back tears, as he cast his eyes between the bedroom in the adjacent house and Shiro on the screen.</p><p>“Wait,” cried Keith.</p><p>Shiro stopped pulling on his gown, as he turned back to the camera. It was hard for Keith to control his racing heart, which pounded out within his ears and beat against his chest, and – with weak knees – he forced himself to push back his chair and stand full before the camera. The lens captured his full body, as his trembling hands took a hold of the hem of his old shirt. Shiro watched with blown pupils and parted lips. He dropped his dressing gown. Keith flushed until his cheeks burned and slowly raised the fabric a mere inch, as he mumbled out:</p><p>“Just – Just the one photograph, right?”</p><p>“Right, a one-time thing,” lied Shiro.</p><p>Keith took in a deep breath, as he whispered: <em>‘a one-time thing’</em>. He slowly pulled the shirt over his head, before dropping it to the floor, and from his chest two nipples stood erect and hard, as they were struck by the cold air of the bedroom. Shiro moaned. It was so low and primal that it sent shivers down to Keith’s groin, which slowly worked itself into a half-hard state, and his hands – still shivering, still shaking – went to the waistband of his shorts. Shiro urged him onward with gasped pleas: <em>‘go on, baby, please . . . show me what you got’. </em></p><p>It took all his strength for Keith to slide down his shorts. They soon fell once they got down his thighs, and exposed his half-hard member for full views, along with a heft set of testicles and a smattering of brown curls around his groin. He quickly snatched his phone, took a series of photographs, and emailed them over to Shiro. It took a few minutes for Shiro to notice the email, as he was so entranced with the sight of the naked teenager, but soon he was scrolling through with a great deal of interest, while his hand groped at his clothed cock.</p><p>“I – er – should . . . I should put my shorts back on.”</p><p>“No, keep them off, baby,” ordered Shiro. “You look fucking hot.”</p><p>Shiro looked back to Keith. The disappointment was gone from his face, but replaced with something that was hard to decipher . . . anger, maybe . . . his eyes narrowed, while his lips pulled into a smirk, and he squeezed again at an erect member. Keith hopped from foot to foot, before he slid back into his chair and rolled it back to his desk. It hid his erection in turn, one that matched Shiro in arousal, and it took all his self-control to keep his hands on the desk.</p><p>“Th-Thanks, Shiro,” gasped Keith.</p><p>* * *</p><p>Keith stared wide-eyed at his phone.</p><p>The photographs were all clearly him; one was low-light from a web-cam of him shirtless, while another was a full-frontal naked selfie complete with flash, and some were taken at random points of the day when he was dressing or changing, despite the fact that he was <em>sure</em> his web-cam had been turned off. There was even a video of him showering, complete with jerking off into the drain, and he was sure someone had used the open window to steal the footage.</p><p>A burst of unwanted arousal coursed through him . . . <em>someone wanted him, desired him </em>. . . it was tinged with the adrenaline that coursed though his veins, a burst of fear that told in no uncertain terms to think about what would happen in those pictures leaked. He struggled to breathe, as he ignored the camera and screen for his window. Shiro was in his bedroom opposite. He waved to Keith in the darkness, with a shit-eating grin that brought tears brimming to Keith’s face, and he said nothing, even as his microphone remained on. Keith choked out:</p><p>“You – You <em>kept</em> the pictures of me?”</p><p>It was hard to see with the advanced hours of the night, but Shiro’s arm was moving rhythmically with what looked to be movements of masturbation, and he was clearly bare-chested and watching Keith . . . eyes locked directly on his body, as Keith stood. He licked at his lips and blew Keith a kiss. It was an odd gesture, something between mockery and affection, and Keith ran a trembling hand through his hair, as he stared back at his naked photos and videos.</p><p>“Is that a problem?” Shiro asked.</p><p>Keith winced. It was so innocently asked . . . he screwed shut his eyes, as he wondered whether he was making a mountain of a molehill . . . sure, Shiro had failed to tell him that he was taking photographs, but it <em>was</em> a compliment and it was not as though Keith was exactly shy in exposing his body for his long-term idol and hero. He bit the inside of his cheek, while he wiped away the moisture from his eye with the back of his hand. Keith forced a smile. He looked back through the window to Shiro, where he offered a half-felt wave of his hand and shrugged.</p><p>“I mean,” said Keith. “I’d rather you deleted them, yeah.”</p><p>“Oh, so . . . you don’t trust me with them.”</p><p>“N-No, it’s not that! It’s just –”</p><p>“I thought they were pretty hot. I haven’t been able to stop looking at them; I even showed an old friend or two of mine that works at the school, Adam and Iverson -? Wow, they were so jealous that you’re my friend and not theirs! They said you looked fucking <em>sexy</em>, like the things they wanted to do to you . . . <em>you</em> got them so hot and heavy, Keith. <em>You</em>.”</p><p>Keith blushed. He pressed a hand to his cheek, which felt scorching hot, and awkwardly turned his back to the window and computer, while he fidgeted from foot to foot . . . <em>‘hot and heavy’, ‘you’ </em>. . . a shuddered sigh escaped his lips, as his member twitched half-hard. It was hard not to imagine how they would have looked, what they may have said . . . <em>Shiro handing them the phone . . . their erection straining, as they whispered how they’d like to fuck him </em>. . . still, if those photographs and videos ever leaked to his teachers or parents -? Keith winced and said:</p><p>“I – I didn’t think you’d show people . . .”</p><p>“How could I not when you look so fucking amazing?”</p><p>Shiro stood and exposed his erection. It was only a brief look, as soon he vanished out of sight from the camera, while his phone picked up the sound of footsteps only, and Shiro disappeared out of his bedroom, while seemingly climbing a set of stairs. Keith cursed and ran to his French doors, which – still broken, always open by an inch – were easy to slide open. He made a mental note to get his dad to call a handyman, while he moved his eyes over all the windows in search of a light or a face. He saw nothing, even as Shiro whispered down the phone:</p><p>“Okay, I’ll delete them, Keith.”</p><p>“You – You will?”</p><p>“Sure, but you have to do something for me first.” Shiro laughed. “It’s just a little dare, that’s all, okay? I want you to strip off in front of the camera and then run naked to the end of the garden and back. That’s all. It’s just a harmless bit of streaking. You do that and I’ll delete everything that I’ve got on memory card, alright? No one can see you. Plus, I’ve seen you naked already . . .”</p><p>“And that’s it? I streak there and back and you’ll delete them?”</p><p>“Yeah, but I want you to film yourself doing it, so I know you’re not just <em>saying</em> you’re doing it to get me to delete the footage. You have video messaging on your phone. You just film yourself running naked to the end of the garden and back so I can see it, okay?”</p><p>Keith went back inside his bedroom. The digital clock read: 03:47. He listened out closely about the house, just in case his father was back home from his shift, but there was only silence . . . no creaking floorboards, no coughs or throat-clearing, not even a radio playing . . . Keith moved back to his computer. The image was just that of Shiro’s empty bedroom. It wasn’t a big garden, and it was the middle of the night -? Who would see him? He closed his eyes, took in a deep breath, and tried to still his racing heart, as he choked out a broken:</p><p>“Okay, hold on.”</p><p>He made no show of stripping, as there was no one in the bedroom to see him. It was a simple ripping off of clothing, which were thrown or kicked to various points of his messy bedroom, and soon he stood naked before the camera with a pout and flared nostrils. Keith wiped again at a stray tear, as he took his phone and reluctantly made the video-call through to Shiro. Shiro answered right away. He seemed to be in an empty room, which meant he was probably upstairs.</p><p>Keith held the camera high above him. It showed all of his naked flesh, while he forced back his previous smile, and he walked bare-footed towards the broken doors, where the cold air seemed to make his genitals shrink and his nipples grow hard. He cursed, before he walked over the patio slabs towards the garden. It was now or never. Keith was already flashing his buttocks at the road behind him, as well as Shiro from the upper-floor, being that his house was an inverted L-shape, and so the sooner it was done then the sooner it would be finished.</p><p>He ran.</p><p>A security-light flashed on from Shiro’s back-yard, one that Keith was <em>sure</em> was not there the night before, and it lit up both gardens like a football stadium. It made his light skin look piercingly white, while exposing every crevice for any neighbouring eyes, and somehow the idea of people watching him – <em>seeing him, wanting him</em> – turned him on more than he ever dreamed or wanted.  Keith touched the back fence with his free hand, before he turned around and saw a figure standing with a camera in the upper window of Shiro’s two-storey house.</p><p>It looked like an actual camera, not just one from a phone. Keith cursed. He ran full speed back to the house, with his own phone clenched so tightly that his knuckles hurt, and his half-erect cock and balls slapped painfully against his thighs as he ran with all his might. Keith practically skidded inside his bedroom and panted for breath, while the security light turned itself off, and he lifted his phone and glared hard into the screen, as tears streamed down his face.</p><p>“There,” said Keith. “Delete them!”</p><p>“Hmm, no.” Shiro smirked.</p><p>“You said you’d delete them if I did that!”</p><p>“I will, I <em>will</em>, but first I want you to run to the end of the street. It’s night time, so no one’s going to see you, kid! It’ll just be a bit of fun . . . they’re such good photos that I don’t want to delete them for no reason. Just streak to the end of the road, stream to it to me, and we’re done.”</p><p>The tears were bitter and salty on his tongue. It made sense that Shiro would want proof that he was serious about deleting them, but there had to be better ways . . . <em>safer</em> ways . . . he thought about how some teenagers were abducted into windowless vans or dragged into alleyways, and his stomach churned. A burst of bile flooded over his tongue. Still, while Shiro had those videos then there was always a risk they could get leaked or hacked or stolen, and Keith knew that his life would be ruined if the bullies ever saw them. He asked through hiccups and sobs:</p><p>“Y-You <em>p-promise</em> we’re done t-then?”</p><p>“Yeah, just run naked to the end of the road.”</p><p>Keith angled his phone above him again. He slowly crept out of his bedroom, down the short corridor to the kitchen, with the bathroom just through a door between the two, and – pausing at the living room door – looked around for any sign of his father. Papa Kogane had fallen asleep in front of the television set . . . blanket over his legs, head dangling over the arm . . . the television flickered over his face, making it clear that – should he open his eyes – he could see everything.</p><p>He slowly crept over the carpet as silently as possible, before reaching the hall that led to the main staircase, and – extremely carefully – unlocked the door so as not to make a sound. Keith pushed a shoe between the door and doorframe to keep it open, before he slipped out into the front garden and strode onto the pavement outside his house. He simply stood there. Keith looked both directions, while making sure no one was out in the suburban street, and turned back to see Shiro this time in the front upper bedroom, again with a camera. Keith cursed.</p><p>He ran down the street as fast as possible; it took a good five minutes, as it was a long road, and a few times he had to quickly hide behind a parked car as someone drove down, including – much to his horror – a windowless van like the ones his parents warned him about. He finally made it to the street sign, where he stopped and angled the phone to get both into view, and smiled through tears, before catching his breath. The air was so cold that it burned the back of his throat with every wheezing breath, and he leaned against the ice-cold street-sign.</p><p>It was then he looked about the street. The house on the corner featured a man on the porch, who had a steaming cup of coffee in hand, and was smirking at him with an open dressing gown, one that exposed his erection and the hand <em>around</em> his erection. He was jerking off to Keith! A high-pitched keening sound escaped Keith, as he ran back at full-speed to his house, and he refused to slow down even once, not until he was back in his bedroom and able to catch his breath again.</p><p>“There,” spat Keith. “Done. Now you’ll delete them, right?”</p><p>Shiro was back in his bedroom. He was visible on the computer screen, although his curtains were closed and his French doors locked closed, and Keith struggled to see anything beyond his bare chest and face, although there was a weird squelching sound that was rhythmic in nature, while his shoulder made odd jerking motions. Keith winced, while he sniffed and choked and wiped away the tears from his face . . . tears made worse when he realised he was hard enough to break nails, and his throbbing erection was visible on the web-cam. Shiro moaned out:</p><p>“Sure, I wouldn’t want to piss off my buddy . . .”</p><p>A relieved sigh fell from Keith, who lazily turned off the monitor. He dragged his feet back to his bed, before collapsing with little grace on top of the covers and sheets, while letting his eyes fall closed, as every muscle ached and groaned from his run down the street. Keith was still hard, enough that it started to ache with pressure, while the tip leaked pre-come. He let his hand slide down his abdomen to his penis, which he took into hand with a loud gasp . . .</p><p>Failing to notice that the web-cam was still turned on, he moaned out:</p><p>“Thank you, Shiro . . .”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Mailman - Facial</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Keith struggled to control his heart-rate. He paced the hall with his head held low, while his arms wrapped around his abdomen with a firm pressure, and – with panted breaths – tried to focus his eyes so that his vision stopped from fading in and out of a blurred nothingness. The phone sat at the very edge of the windowsill, where it stood sideways so that it had a strange view of the whole windowsill and some of the hall and garden, but little else. It was still early, enough that the sun was only just starting to rise, with its low light cast long shadows.  </p><p>“I – I can’t do this, Shiro,” choked Keith. “I can’t!”</p><p>He ran his hands over his face and hair, while he stared back to the camera. It would be another hour before his father came home from his shift, and the mailman was only just be starting his round, meaning it was probably only five-thirty or six o’clock. If he got it over with quickly then no one would need see or know what he did, but still . . . this was the <em>front</em> window of the <em>front</em> garden, and it would only take one commuter or driver to look his way. Shiro said firmly:</p><p>“All you have to do is flash the guy.”</p><p>“He’s our <em>mailman</em>,” pleaded Keith.</p><p>A low sigh echoed out from the phone, as Keith dashed over to the window. The staircase was built slightly out further than the wall of the hall, and it meant that a wall extended out from the right side of the window to accommodate the space; anyone that stood on the other side of the window – or flashed from the window – would be unseen from that right side. It was little consolation. The fact that Shiro’s house was a mirror image, shielding the left side, did not stop the fact that everything opposite was on clear view . . . Keith tensed, as Shiro spat out:</p><p>“So what?”</p><p>“So what if he tells my parents?”</p><p>“You just call him a liar,” said Shiro. “Look, you’ve flashed me enough times. What’s the difference? It’s not as though no one’s seen your dick before, and it’s a fucking nice piece of meat between your legs, too . . . just whip it out, stand in the window, and <em>stay there</em>.”</p><p>“I can’t, Shiro. It’s still morning, he’ll see me!”</p><p>“That’s kind of the fucking point.”</p><p>A slam of something echoed out from the phone. Keith winced. He poked his head out from the window, as he opened wide the pane and allowed it to touch the wall to the right, and half-knelt on the windowsill that was low enough to barely reach one knee. The mailman was a few doors down, and he hit each mail-box with almost exactly the same length of time between each one, while barely paying attention to anything else. There was every chance he might not see Keith.</p><p>“I can’t,” said Keith. “I just can’t!”</p><p>“Okay, then I guess I’ll have to tell your folks . . .”</p><p>Keith stumbled. It was quite a feat when kneeling at a window, but still the loss of balance – the dizziness, the adrenaline rush – brought him falling with great speed, until he caught himself on the windowsill and gasped for breath. He paled. The colour drained from him, as he slowly craned his head to look at his phone. Shiro sat in an empty room. He glared at Keith with a coldness that Keith rarely ever saw, while his lips pursed into a thin line, and Keith clutched at his chest as if he could reach into his heart, as he whispered a broken:</p><p>“W-What?”</p><p>“I mean, you <em>have</em> been going online showing your naked body to random guys,” said Shiro. “You also streaked down the road for the past five nights in a row . . . wow, talk about a deviant! I’ve got my finger on the ‘send’ button with all the videos, kid, so you’ve got a good thirty seconds for the mailman to walk past before I click it. Do you need me to count down?”</p><p>“Shiro, this isn’t fair -! You said you’d delete them!”</p><p>“I said I’d delete them from my memory card . . . I did. It’s not my fault I’ve got copies, but I <em>could</em> delete some of them too over time, if you behaved like a good boy, but so far you’re not giving me any real incentive. I don’t know . . . maybe I should send these to Lance, too!”</p><p>A cold wash of sweat dripped over Keith. It soaked into his t-shirt and jeans, while his breath left him in one blow as if his lungs deflated from a strong impact, and – choking on air itself – Keith thought about how Lance would act with those videos: <em>they’d be around school in a week</em>! It was hard to stop his dick from twitching at how hundreds – <em>thousands</em> – of eyes would be on him, and yet the bullying and teasing that would come with that -? Tears pricked at his eyes, even as he put a hand to his dick to squeeze tight in hopes of fending off his erection.</p><p>“Alright,” shouted Keith. “I’ll do it!”</p><p>“That’s my boy,” teased Shiro.</p><p>Keith took in a deep breath. He slowly pulled himself into a standing position, as he pulled his shirt up to expose the flat stomach and a hint of a now erect nipple, which he brushed against with his thumb to send a shiver down his spine. A hiss escaped him, as he pulled and flicked at the small nub . . . his member grew slightly harder, while his eyes half-lidded, and he started to alternate between squeezes and strokes until his nipple brought him to full erection.</p><p>He remained standing before the open window, as the mailman made his way finally in view towards Shiro’s mailbox, and – now or never – Keith slid the waistband of his shorts down until they hooked underneath his testicles. The erect cock slapped at his stomach, where it left a visible mark of pre-come. The vein along the underside throbbed in time with his heartbeat, as he continued to work his nipple with one hand and his erection with the other, and slowly he milked out the pre-come in slow waves, until it slicked his cock wet under his palm.</p><p>He instinctively jerked into his hand. He struggled to see, as his eyes closed and head rolled, and every now and then soft sounds would break free . . . <em>‘ooh’ . . . ‘ah, oh yeah’ . . . </em>when he opened his eyes again, his body was rocking back and forth, while the mailman stood stock-still at the mailbox with his eyes locked on Keith . . . <em>‘fuck’</em>! Keith squeezed at his cock, while he jerked his hand a little faster and rolled his hips into his fist, and – licking his lips – he nodded his head and winked to the mailman. The guy was watching him . . . <em>wanted</em> him . . . Keith moaned.</p><p>There was something . . . something . . . something fucking <em>hot</em> about a stranger watching him touch himself in the open window, more so than he expected, and – as the mailman walked towards him – a spurt of pre-come shot from his cock and dripped over his knuckles. Keith continued to play with himself, even as more groans and mewls broke from his panting mouth, and he nearly came then and there as the mailman stopped just a few inches from him.</p><p>“Oh, oh God,” choked Keith. “Oh shit!”</p><p>The man was grinning ear to ear, while only the low wall kept any distance. It would be so easier for the man to climb through, or to yank Keith towards him, or even just molest him without moving at all . . . he would be at his mercy, at his control . . . Keith cried out, as he squeezed the base of his cock to stop from an early orgasm. He panted fast and hard, with his head thrown back, and finally locked eyes with the mailman, and bit into his lip in a seductive fashion.</p><p>“Wow,” laughed the man. “You look . . . <em>wow</em>.”</p><p>Keith blushed. He ran one hand over his chest, while still working his member, before – finally – letting go to pull the shirt over his head, and tossed it at on odd angle onto the stairwell. He moved his legs together, so that his shorts would drop onto the floor, and he kicked them back so that he stood only in high socks and old sneakers. The mailman laughed and dropped his bag of mail to the ground, while he sported an obvious erection and leaned on the protruding wall.</p><p>“Kid, I’m due my break soon, so . . .”</p><p>“Huh?” Keith stopped. “What about your break?”</p><p>“Well, you want to fuck, right? I can arrange that.”</p><p>The mailman reached with his free hand. A callused set of fingers traced light patterns over Keith’s thigh, sending shivers through his spine, and – as the mailman leaned into his space – the hand ran all over his sides and back and buttocks. They explored every inch of his skin, but avoided his groin and nipples, as if trying to coax him and goad him and lure him into finally breaking down and begging him for a thorough fucking . . . Keith mewled. He wanted more, but he also wanted to be left alone. He furrowed his brow and grabbed at the wrists.</p><p>It was hard to keep them in place, especially as the mailman started to kiss at his neck. The skin there was sensitive . . . more so than Keith realised . . . it was sensual, soft, and <em>sexual</em> . . . Keith tilted his head for better ease of access, while he frotted forward. The pre-come smeared against the mailman’s shorts, as Keith’s bared erection pushed against the clothed one. He panted. He let go of those wrists, so that long fingers now buried themselves into his hair. Keith choked:</p><p>“W-What? No. No! I’ve n-never – I haven’t –”</p><p>“A virgin, eh? Even better.”</p><p>“I’m <em>not</em> going to have sex with you, dude!”</p><p>The man grabbed at Keith’s erection. A loud <em>‘holy shit’</em> wailed out, as Keith threw his hands onto broad shoulders to keep upright, and – rocking into the hand – he soon rested his face into the crook of that neck, while mewling and panting and moaning for more. He looked over the man’s shoulder to see a couple of young kids skating down the pavement, perhaps no more than eight at most, but they thankfully skated on by without a second glance. The man whispered next into Keith’s ear so low and deep that Keith almost gave into his proposition:</p><p>“You will unless you want me to tell your parents about this.”</p><p>“I – I can’t! I mean . . . we – we don’t have time!”</p><p>“What the fuck you mean we don’t have time?”</p><p>“My – My dad’s back soon and – and – and you have your shift. So –”</p><p>The mailman cursed. He grabbed Keith hard by his hair, before he yanked him painfully back, and unzipped and unbuttoned his shorts, before whipping out a small and stubby cock. It was far from the beautiful masterpiece of Shiro, and – frankly – it looked like it had not been recently washed, and yet it was thick enough that it could probably make a jaw ache. Keith was caught between repulsion and attraction, as he imagined it would be easier to take inside him than other larger cocks, and a part of him wanted it . . . <em>needed</em> it . . . the man jerked his head.</p><p>“Alright, get down on your knees,” spat the man.</p><p>“S-Sir? I – I don’t know what –”</p><p>“I’m going to give you a facial. You know what that means, right?” Keith shook his head. “Well, you’re about to learn, you little slut . . . next time I catch you flashing me, though, I’m going to expect to pound that boy-pussy of yours in return for my silence.”</p><p>“I –I won’t do it a-again, I swear! I swear!”</p><p>“I always fantasised that one day I’d catch you trying to sneak back inside through your doggy door, maybe you’d get stuck and start begging for help, and I’d hear you and you wouldn’t be able to see me through the door . . . wouldn’t know it’s me . . . god, I’d ram my cock so hard inside you that you wouldn’t be able to shit or sit for a week.”</p><p>He pushed Keith down onto his knees. The impact was hard and bruised the skin, while his mouth opened with a pained cry, and yet – despite the rough treatment and threats of rape – his erection still strained at his shorts, while he writhed and reached for the mailman. He clung to the shorts with his hands, while he tried to get the cock into his mouth. The man laughed. He slapped Keith several times with his member, forcing Keith to chase it with parted lips and darting tongue, before he forced Keith’s head back by the roots of his hair. It exposed his throat.</p><p>“I’ll make this quick,” muttered the man.</p><p>“We – We could go to my room –”</p><p>“I thought you didn’t want to be fucked? Just kneel and shut up, bitch.”</p><p>The hand in his hair held hard, sending pain through his scalp. It may have exposed his throat in a manner that the man seemed to like, but it also left Keith at his mercy, and he stared upward at the man hunched over him, who now jerked his cock with tremendous speed. The ‘fapping’ sound was familiar and obscene, while the flared head was just an inch or so from Keith’s mouth, and the mailman grunted low and fast, and stared down with burning eyes. Keith touched himself.</p><p>He jerked his cock in time with the man that dominated him, while gasping out pleas for mercy and licking his lips in anticipation of the treat to come . . . <em>‘please, sir’ . . . ‘oh god, I need you so bad’ . . . ‘oh, oh god, it – it feels so good’ </em>. . . Keith panted and gasped, while the pleasure built and built inside him, coming to a crescendo that could not be kept back. It was like electric through his veins, so hot and heavy, with every nerve aflame, and – finally – he exploded with orgasmic bliss, as his face contorted and come coated his stomach and adnominal muscles.</p><p>It was enough to set off the mailman. The man came fast in thick ropes of come over Keith’s face and throat, with several long blasts spurting over pale skin, and it was almost . . . <em>relaxing</em> . . . coming down from his afterglow, while such liquid warmth dripped slowly over his flesh and marked him as being <em>owned</em> by a grown man that <em>wanted</em> him. He was still shivering and shaking while the last rope of come glued shut his left eye, and one of the others dripped into his mouth with a strangely delicious taste . . . something sweet, yet salty . . .</p><p>The man was tucking himself away, while Keith brought a hand to his face. He gently touched at some of the come in absolute awe, as his dilated eyes darted to the camera and wondered if Shiro liked what he saw, and whether he came behind the lens. Keith smiled. He scooped up some of the come and brought it to his mouth, where he suckled on two of his digits and relished in the taste, as his tongue seductively ran over and licked at his fingers when finished.</p><p>“Holy fuck,” gasped the man. “You’re so hot.”</p><p>“We – We could sneak to my room and maybe w-we could –”</p><p>“Nah, bitch, I better go before I get caught.”</p><p>Keith dropped down onto his buttocks. He was still coated in come, while the blissful afterglow had him running his hands over his body, and his eyes were mostly closed, as he writhed and moaned and relished in these new feelings . . . he barely noticed as the mailman tossed him a crumpled up five-dollar note. It stuck momentarily to the come on his neck, before it fell down to his spent member with a white stain now on its paper. The mailman said through laughter:</p><p>“Feel free to flash me again any time . . .”</p><p>“Oh, I will,” promised Keith.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Lance - Jerk-Off</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>‘Jerk it, Keith.’</em>
</p><p>The screen lit up from beneath his desk. It was luckily on the vibrate feature, although that had not helped matters much from how it was located in his front pocket, and now it buzzed again as a second message read: <em>‘now, show me’</em>. Keith squirmed on his stool. He discreetly slid his phone between his legs underneath the desk, while he leaned back just enough to see the screen and yet at least look as if he was reading his notes for the class. Iverson continued his lecture.</p><p>It was an old classroom, which meant a row of five ‘desks’. They were more like wooden work-stations, which came about waist-high or more when standing, and the front was covered completely with a thick panel, meaning that the legs and laps of students were hidden. Each desk could fit around five students, but – on the far back row – Keith shared a space with Hunk and Lance, who sat almost touching at some distance away from him, as if he had ‘cooties’.  There was no way anyone in front, or Iverson, could see him, but those two idiots -?</p><p><em>‘I’m in class,’</em> text back Keith.</p><p>
  <em>‘Which class?’</em>
</p><p>Keith rolled his eyes. He knew how these conversations went, which usually involved huge risk and masturbation on his side of the screen, and already he was half-hard at thought of working his erect cock for the camera, as Shiro watched and likely jerked off in turn. Still, the idea of being expelled as his peers screamed ‘pervert’ was enough to offset the arousal and thrill of possibly being caught, and his member stayed at half-mast, as he squirmed and typed back:</p><p>
  <em>‘Chemistry. Why?’</em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘Because that class is the one with the weird seating, right?’</em>
</p><p>A low sigh escaped Keith, as he looked to his right. Lance looked half-asleep, with his head on his hand facing Keith, and Hunk was rested his chin on his forearms, as he stared with a glazed expression towards the blackboard. The classroom was something out of a bygone era, while Iverson always refused to update it to a modern standard. There were no windows. There were low-hanging lights. Keith heard his heartbeat pick up speed, as he anticipated the inevitable command, and his legs instinctively parted wider, as he typed back with deft fingers:</p><p>
  <em>‘Yeah, what about it?’</em>
</p><p><em>‘You always sit at the back,’ </em>said Shiro. <em>‘You’re probably hard already. Why excuse yourself to jerk off in a bathroom when you can do it in class? No one will see you. The desk will hide everything, and Iverson would probably be into it if he saw anyway. Go for it.’</em></p><p>
  <em>‘I can’t, damn it! Lance and Hunk are sat on the same bench.’</em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘Just lift your right leg up, or undo your school jacket. It’ll shield it a bit. Plus, who cares if they see shit? You can stuff your dick away and deny it, if they dare to say anything. I confiscated their phones this morning, too, so they couldn’t film you even if they wanted. Just be sure to get it on camera for me, alright? I want to see it. Got to make sure you’re doing it, babe xoxo.’</em>
</p><p>Keith blushed. He obediently undid his jacket. It fell open, but failed to fully hide the side of his body from sight, and so he tried to lift his right leg onto the first rung of the stool, where he hoped that the rising incline of his thigh would better hide his groin. Keith subtly unbuttoned the fly to his trousers and exposed his bare member. The lack of underwear allowed it to slowly rise from the parted fabric, as Keith switched to a video-call, and – keeping Shiro on mute – used the text option to reply, while angling the phone to showcase his erection, as he asked:</p><p>
  <em>‘I just have to get it out and that’s it?’</em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘No, I want you to come, too.’</em>
</p><p>A low curse escaped Keith, as the adrenaline coursed through his veins. He chanced a glance to his right, where Lance and Hunk were still totally switched off from the world around them, and looked forward to see that his cock was completely hidden from the rest of the classroom. Every set of eyes was directed forward, while Iverson looked from student to student at random, but rarely for more than a few seconds at a time with a cursory glance. Keith shivered.</p><p>He kept his phone in one hand, while his other slid slowly to his member. The hand wrapped gently around the length and slowly took a firm grip, before sliding it slowly up and down in a steady rhythm, while hoping – <em>praying</em> – Iverson failed to notice that he was no longer taking notes. He could almost hear the inevitable question now: <em>‘Kogane, why are your hands under the table</em>?’ Keith panted. He bit the inside of his lip, as he jerked at his cock with firm pumps, and made sure the camera caught everything. A part of him knew to go faster, but . . .</p><p>He wanted to savour it. He wanted to <em>feel</em> it. Every second he delayed orgasm was a second of extra risk, and there was something about how Iverson would meet his gaze . . . not knowing, not realising . . . that was incredibly sexual. No one realised that he was there, fully exposed, <em>touching himself</em> . . . it was something forbidden, naughty . . . <em>wrong</em> . . . Keith felt his cock throb in his hand, as pre-come slowly trickled from the slit. He barely noticed a whispered voice say:</p><p>“Hey, can I look at your notes and – <em>whoa</em>!”</p><p>Keith looked to his right. Lance had leaned over, so as to whisper to Keith, and his change of position allowed him a perfect look at Keith’s exposed erection, leaving him open-mouthed and wide-eyed, as he stared down without once daring to look away. A spark of fear and humiliation struck Keith in equal measure, as a cold sweat broke over his flesh, and his uniform stuck uncomfortably to his skin. He continued to aim his phone. He continued to masturbate.</p><p>Lance was looking at him . . . <em>watching</em> him . . . despite the tears brimming in his eyes, his member wept with a steady stream of pre-come, which leaked onto heavy testicles. Keith squirmed. He made to put his erection away, but a text flashed onto the screen: <em>‘don’t you dare’</em>. Keith screwed shut his eyes. He fought to control his racing heart, while he started to wish and pray he was anywhere else . . . soon Lance would yell for a teacher, or make fun of him, or everyone would turn and realise what was going on . . .  Keith fought back tears.</p><p>The bile rose to the back of his throat, but his erection refused to deflate. There was something about how Lance watched him, even scooting his stool closer for a better view, that just felt . . . well . . . <em>validating</em>. This was one of his bullies, sure, but now he was doing something that got their attention and maybe respect. After all, it took guts to do something so stupid . . . right? He fought back a moan, as the head streamed out pre-come in small spurts. Hunk whispered over:</p><p>“What’s going on?”</p><p>“Keith’s jacking himself off in class!”</p><p>“What? No way! You’re lying.”</p><p>Hunk scooted his chair over in turn. He stopped just on the other side of Lance, who leaned back to allow Hunk a decent view, and – even as his head spun and heart raced – some sordid part of Keith dared to lower his leg and push back his jacket, fully exposing himself to them with no obstructions. Keith half-smiled with trembling lips; he angled his lower body towards them, but kept his upper body towards his work so as to at least pretend like he was reading his notes. The phone camera now had a good shot of Lance’s legs and crotch, too. Lance gasped out:</p><p>“Dude, are you <em>filming</em> yourself . . . ah . . . <em>you know</em>?”</p><p>“M-My – <em>oh God</em> – my boyfriend likes to watch,” choked Keith. “He m-makes me do stuff for him, like . . . <em>ah, ooh </em>. . . I have to film myself doing stuff. P-Please, don’t tell anyone! I just need to come for the camera; he needs me to come, so I can stop jerking it . . .”</p><p>“Would he – er – mind if I helped you out?”</p><p>Keith stopped in his ministrations. He was rock hard, with electric jolts of pleasure coursing through every nerve, and yet – as hard as he was – Lance looked ready to burst out of his school trousers with the slightest twitch of his cock. Lance was gnawing at his lips, while his eyes ogled without any attempt to hide his arousal. Keith spread his legs wide. He let go of his member, which jerked and dripped with a mind of its own, and slowly traced a finger from base to tip, where he ran light circles about the slit, before asking in a hushed voice:</p><p>“You – You want to touch me?”</p><p>“Hey, you’re the slut feeling himself up in chemistry class!” Lance blushed. “I just want to know what it feels like, that’s all . . . I never felt another guy’s dick before. It – It’s not gay or anything, dude! I just . . . if it helps you out, like to come quicker, what’s the issue?”</p><p>Keith smiled. He nodded. It was all Lance needed to put a hand on his thigh, where he squeezed with an almost familiar and intimate hold, and lightly stroked his hand up and down Keith’s leg, while Hunk choked out a: <em>‘fuck, you really gonna do it?’</em> A barely stifled moan escaped Keith, who wrapped his fingers around Lance’s wrist and pulled it further and further up, until – finally – those fingertips brushed against his exposed balls. Lance jerked his hand back, as if burned, before returning it and letting it rest so impossibly close to that weeping member.  </p><p>“Hurry,” whispered Keith. “<em>Touch me.</em>”</p><p>Lance wasted no time. He snatched at the cock with a fevered desperation, but somehow knew how to apply just the perfect amount of pressure. The thumb was positioned just over the head, so that it could lightly dip into the slit and smear the pre-come, and the fingers started in a brilliant milking motion, as they worked him to a fevered point. He would even give a twist of his wrist on every upward stroke, in a technique Keith swore to memorise for future.</p><p>Keith threw back his head, while the camera trembled in his hand. He half-closed his eyes, as he relished in the amazing sensations . . . <em>sparks of electricity, every nerve aflame . . . a blissful wave of pleasure </em>. . . Keith pressed closed his lips. It took all his strength to hold back moans and cries, as he forced his throat into silence, and yet his free hand moved with a mind of its own, as it traced strange patterns over his chest and neck, until it finally clamped itself over his mouth, as he no longer trusted himself to keep silent. His legs shivered and shook where he sat.</p><p>“Oh my God,” gasped Hunk. “He’s <em>trembling</em>!”</p><p>“He’s such a slut,” laughed Lance. “No one’s going to believe that I had Mr Smarty-Pants cock in my hand, let alone during a fucking lesson! He’s leaking like crazy, too. I swear people <em>come</em> less than this whore is leaking . . . shit, he’ll have to sit in the middle next time. You have <em>got</em> to get a go of this, man. I can’t believe he’s just a slutty whore deep down.”</p><p>“Yeah, you’re telling me! Do you think he does this in other classes? Man, he’s <em>got</em> to be fucking the teachers or doing this with them . . . who has the nerve to do this in public, unless – you know – they’re jerking old man dick after classes. I wish I had my phone on me!”</p><p>“Oh fuck, yeah, I’d <em>so</em> have to show this to Pidge and Allura!”</p><p>“Ha, look at him! He’s about to come already!”</p><p>Keith was shaking all over. He opened his eyes to see Iverson had set some work, with a series of questions on the blackboard that counted towards the final grade, and everyone was hunched over with pencils scurrying fast over paper, while Iverson walked to stand at the back of the classroom to ‘prevent cheating’. Lance ignored Hunk who warned him about the teacher behind them, and continued to jerk Keith with an increasing pace, while pre-come slicked his hand and made the speed every faster with the natural lubrication. It felt good . . . <em>so good</em> . . .</p><p>Lance chanced a look over his shoulder. Keith followed his gaze. The man was watching them . . . hard and watching them . . . Lance laughed out: <em>‘shit, he really is fucking the old man, what a damned whore’</em>. The pleasure was building and building, as Keith gripped hard at the edge of desk and pulled his camera into clear view to get a better shot, and he angled it down for a bird’s eye view of the wondrous sexual act offered by Lance. Iverson screamed out:</p><p>“Kogane! Why aren’t your eyes on your work?”</p><p>“I – I don’t – <em>ah</em> – knoooow . . .”</p><p>It was a miracle only a couple of students dared to turn around. They had a clear view of his contorted and grimaced face, as his mouth dropped wide open, and – as drool escaped the corner of his mouth, his eyes rolling back into only whites – hot ropes of come shot out fast and hard from his cock in various long spewing spurts. It luckily caught underneath the desk, where it coated the wood white and slowly dripped down, and Keith almost collapsed with fatigue.</p><p>The ecstasy was so immense . . . so unlike anything he had ever before experienced, as he finally turned off his phone and ran a hand over his clothed body. Iverson told the students to turn around, while Keith forced the phone into his pocket . . . his muscle were weak, his limbs loose . . . it took several times to get the phone inside, while the whole time he smiled absently and just hummed in contentment. Lance tucked his cock away for him, before buttoning him back up and whispering into his ear that he was a dirty come-whore. Iverson spat out:</p><p>“Do you need to see the nurse, Kogane?”</p><p>Keith slowly spun around to face Iverson. The man was grinning from ear-to-ear, while Lance exposed his come-covered hand and slowly licked off the white liquid with long strokes of his tongue, and Keith – seeing those fingers sucked one by one into a willing mouth – was half-hard again despite the usual refractory period. He struggled to pack up his belongings, before stumbling over to the classroom door, and – with a gasp – grew fully erect again as Iverson groped at his buttocks and squeezed them hard, before growling out against him:</p><p>“Get well soon, kid!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Pizzaman - Anal Play</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The camera sat mostly hidden above the door. It would have to be taken down before his father returned home, as he tended to have a keen eye with home décor, but otherwise a casual observer would never notice its presence. There was a hidden camera in the plant-pot, located at the opposite side of the hall, which would forever live in its new home, and the camera-phone – also streaming to Shiro – sat on the windowsill with a clear view of the hall and main door.</p><p>Keith adjusted the towel at his waist. The white fabric was soft against his skin, but it barely did anything to cover his buttocks and groin, to the extent that – any time he walked – a slit of the opening would expand and he was sure a hint of pubic hair could be seen. The towel itself was soaking wet from his shower, made worse by his sopping hair that let loose rivulets of water down his back, and all of which was absorbed into the white fabric and weighed it down. He continually had to pull it back up his waist, while retying the knot on his hip.</p><p>“You’re paying for the fucking pizza,” spat Keith.</p><p>Shiro laughed. It echoed out low and loud over the phone. Keith glared at the screen and prayed that the thing would be muted for the ‘main event’, as he quickly checked the clock on the device and looked out of his window, and darted back to the middle of the hall, where he jumped from foot to foot as if running on the spot. It built up his adrenaline, as he curled his lip and glared up at the camera above the door. The laughter increased. Keith gave the middle finger, before lowering his head and running his hands over his face. His heart raced.</p><p><em>‘Oh come on,’ </em>teased Shiro. <em>‘I paid for the cameras.’</em></p><p>“So what?” Keith rolled his eyes. “I <em>told</em> you that I don’t want to do this! I’m starting to feel like a fucking whore that you’re pimping out . . . this is blackmail, Shiro. You can’t keep holding those photos and videos over me forever, and – and – . . . and the more you ask me to do stuff, the more you have against me! I just – I just don’t know if this is worth it any more . . .”</p><p>
  <em>‘Oh? And yet you always orgasm and enjoy our games. Look, you can try to deny it all you want, but the fact is that is that I caught you streaking twice of your own accord, and Iverson reckons that he got you to jerk him off after class to get an A, too. And the mailman –’</em>
</p><p>“I flashed him <em>once</em> since then!”</p><p>
  <em>‘Yeah, and he gave you another facial and blew you. You might claim not to be my whore, but you’re definitely a little slut that gets hard for any guy that looks his way, and the best thing is that you love it . . . you get off on it! You liked being watched, just like you like being dominated and owned, because it means that you’re wanted and needed and desired.’</em>
</p><p>It was true. Keith blushed and dropped his hands, but already his cock was half-hard and pushing up the fabric of the towel in such a way to create a sharp incline, and the opening to the side grew just a sliver to expose part of his creamy thigh. The idea of being seen and wanted was – well – <em>hot </em>. . . the mailman and Iverson and Lance -? They just made him feel dirty, though, like a used and violated piece of disposable garbage. He wanted to be seen and wanted, but to be touched and played with -? Still, every time it got him hard . . . got him wanting more . . . </p><p><em>‘I’m not asking you to fuck him,’ </em>said Shiro.</p><p>“And if he <em>tries</em> to fuck me?”</p><p>
  <em>‘I’ve a spare key and your bedroom doors are still broken.’</em>
</p><p>Keith let loose a fast exhale. A relieved smile broke over his trembling lips, while his eyes struggled to focus through tears that threatened to spill, and – turning his head to the side – a couple of bright lights pulled into the driveway, where they shone blindingly harsh through the hall window. Keith shielded his eyes, while the car headlights turned off. A familiar logo was written across the front of the vehicle. It was now or never . . . Keith felt his cock harden just a little more, as it came more and more alive, and he bit hard into his lip with a groan.</p><p><em>‘It’s show-time, slut,’</em> laughed Shiro.</p><p>The phone now showed a black screen, as Shiro vanished out of sight of his camera. It was pitch-black in his bedroom, so that the screen on Keith’s end would look off to any casual observer, and the barely noticeable icon showed a ‘mute’ signal. The pizza deliveryman was walking slowly down the drive, with a pizza box balanced on one hand. He came to stop just outside. The knock did not come straight away, as the man double-checked the address.</p><p>Keith quickly reached beneath his towel. He jerked himself fast, with little regard to skill or technique, and forced his erection to stand a little taller, before quickly readjusting his towel and throwing some more water over his chest from a glass on a side-table. There was a strange scent in the air, something artificial yet sweet, and – to a ‘connoisseur’ – it was obviously that of silicone lubrication, which also left a familiar stain on the back of the towel. The door knocked. Keith gasped, as he shot his eyes between the various cameras and wiped dry his eyes.</p><p>“I’m here,” called Keith. “One second!”</p><p>He ran quickly to the door and threw it open. The guy who stood there did an instant double-take, nearly dropping the pizza and forced to throw his free hand to the box, as he stumbled and fumbled and barely managed to steady the cardboard. He stared with an open mouth at the barely clothed – and soaking wet – fifteen-year old before him. Keith hardened a little more. He smiled and stood a little taller, as the man blatantly ran his eyes slowly over every inch of exposed flesh with an obvious interest . . . he had to be nineteen at least, but twenty-five at most . . .</p><p>Keith was nearly fully erect, so much so that he had to lean to his side. He could not stand properly upright, lest his erection make the towel blatantly fall over the length and completely expose him, and he could not bring himself to flash the stranger so suddenly on his doorstep. A flush swept over his cheeks and chest, as Keith put a hand to the knot on his towel and held it tight. He brought his free hand to his neck and lightly stroked at the soft skin.</p><p>“I – er – got your pizza, man,” said the guy.</p><p>“Oh? Oh! I – ah – that is . . .”</p><p>“This is you, right? You ordered the extra large sausage?”</p><p>Keith cast a covert glare to the camera. He forced a smiled, while he took in a deep breath and dropped his free hand back to his side, and carefully loosened the knot, so that the towel fell to expose his hip and a hint of a happy trail. The man lowered the pizza box, so that it was now roughly at waist level, and Keith was sure that it was a lame attempt to hide his arousal, as if he might somehow offend or scare Keith by the sight of a tented pair of pants. The guy was pretty tall, towering over Keith, and he looked rather toned beneath his tight uniform.</p><p>“I did,” said Keith. “It’s just my dad was supposed to leave me money, but he ran off for a late shift at work and he’s not going to be back until after midnight . . . I mean, I <em>think</em> I have some money stashed in the side-table? Are you – ah – okay to wait a minute?”</p><p>“Sure, but – you know – it’s cold out here, man.”</p><p>“Well, come on inside. It’s nice and hot in here, so it’ll warm you up.”</p><p>The man practically ran inside. He slammed shut the door and shoved the box onto the side-table, where the rich and steamy scent almost overrode that of lubrication and sex. Keith noticed that the man lingered by the door . . . not quite daring to fully come inside, but not at all possessing the self-control to leave and come back. Keith licked at his lips, before he pushed a hand through his hair and slicked it back against his scalp, and sauntered to the side-table.</p><p>It was a low table, but Keith reached for the drawers from a distance. The extra foot or so forced him to bend lower, so that the towel rode up and showed just a hint of buttocks, and the man behind him was blatantly bending in turn as his mouth moved into a wolf-whistle position. He even sneaked in a grab of his crotch, unaware that Keith was watching him from his peripheral vision. Keith said in an overly cheerful voice: <em>‘no, not here’</em>. He bent even lower for the bottom drawers, which exposed a great deal of his buttocks and balls. He finally said with a sigh:</p><p>“Sorry, maybe I left it on a shelf?”</p><p>A few shelves lined the walls. They were mostly decorative, although his papa sometimes tossed keys or letters on them for safe keeping, and they were high enough – at his height – that Keith required a chair to reach anything on them. He dragged a small wooden chair over to the wall, before standing on it with a sway of his hips. Keith ‘accidentally’ brushed the knot of the towel, as he made to reach upward onto the shelves, and knocked the knot undone in the process, sending the white fabric tumbling down to the floor. Keith was naked.</p><p>Keith gasped. It was slightly forced, as he looked over his shoulder. The twin globes of perfectly shaped and toned buttocks remained perky and firm, with a shimmer of water from the shower, and he made to cover his cheeks with his hands, before he spun around to give a clear view of his twitching – and fully erect – member. He let loose an embarrassed squeak, before he threw his hands over his erection. It was barely hidden and  everything else was still on display.</p><p>“Oh – Oh my God,” gasped Keith. “I – I’m so sorry! I just –”</p><p>“Hey, don’t worry about it. Here, let me help.”</p><p>The man reached out a hand, as if to help Keith down. He took the hand with a gentle touch, while making a show of trying to ‘hide’ his member with his other hand, but – as he made to step down to ‘retrieve’ his towel – purposely ‘wobbled’ on the chair. Keith gasped. He shook back and forth, before letting loose a loud cry, and ‘fell’ forward into the arms of the pizza-delivery man, while throwing his arms around those shoulders and hanging on with his weight.</p><p>It forced the man to grab at his waist, so that he could better support the weight. Keith pressed his body with some force against the rough uniform, while sliding himself up into a full standing position, and soon they were flush against one another. He pulled away so slowly that the world seemed to move in slow-motion, while his lips purposely brushed against an earlobe with a low gasp . . . the hands on his hips held ever tighter, until – with enough distance – they were forced to let go on his damp skin. Keith bent down to pick up a towel and whispered:</p><p>“S-Sorry, I couldn’t get my balance . . .”</p><p>He held the towel against his member. He looked down to see that the man was fully erect, with his cock pressing hard against his trousers, and he looked . . . well . . . <em>very</em> endowed, enough that Keith wondered how painful it would be to take that inside. Keith moaned. The arousal was so much that his cock started to hurt, and it twitched almost in time to his heartbeat, while pre-come spurted and spilled down the sides. The man was fixated, as he stared down . . . the man <em>wanted </em>him . . . wanted to do unspeakable things for him . . . Keith said:</p><p>“Oh, I think I left the money in a drawer.”</p><p>“Not on the shelf?”</p><p>“No, definitely in the drawer.”</p><p>“Shame,” said the man. “I could have helped balance you.”</p><p>Keith blushed, as he walked over to the side-table. He watched the man over his shoulder, while letting his exposed buttocks provide a good sight for him, and – opening the drawer – took out the twenty-dollar note, before holding it up above his shoulder. The man stalked across the room and took it from his hands with a lingering touch. Keith gasped. He dropped the towel again, which fell down on the floor about his feet. He turned his back to the man, facing instead the towel, and bit coyly into his lip, while half-smirking at the man behind him.</p><p>“Damn,” said Keith. “I better pick that up.”</p><p>He bent low. The long legs remained firm, while he rested a hand on one knees, and his back arched with a beautiful curve, as he slowly . . . <em>oh so slowly</em> . . . took the corner of the towel between his fingers, all while looking behind him to the deliveryman. The exposed buttocks were parted just enough to showcase a hint of his hole, which was so wet with lubrication that the crack glistened in the harsh lights, and his winking hole dripped a few drops with each contraction. Keith swallowed hard . . . he wiggled his hips and groaned . . .</p><p>Finally the deliveryman took the bait. Two rough hands grabbed at his buttocks, while the man muttered something about ‘helping him stay balanced’, and groped with a firm hold and roaming fingers, while the squeezing only added to his arousal . . . <em>‘ah, ooh’ </em>. . . a thumb brushed over his twitching hole. Keith cried out. He threw his hands to the side-table, where he gripped until knuckles turned white, and bucked back against the brushing thumb. The man groaned out:</p><p>“You like that?”</p><p>“Uh-huh,” gasped Keith. “It – It feels good . . . I – I tried to clean myself there earlier in the shower, when I got it all soapy and wet, but I just – I just couldn’t get deep enough for a <em>really good </em>cleaning, you know? Can you help me? Can you get deep inside me?”</p><p>“Oh, I can do that. I can do that for sure, baby.”</p><p>The man held apart the cheeks with one hand. It fully exposed the crack, complete with his desperately winking hole, and soon his a long finger ran soft circles around the rim, tracing it with a gentle touch, before slowly . . . <em>slowly</em> . . . pushing inside, while it followed the natural curve of his inner walls. Keith pushed out loosely around the digit, allowing for it to slide in a little deeper and a little quicker, until it was pushed deep to the last knuckle.</p><p>It felt good inside him, both hot and hard. The finger moved against his squishy and hot channel, where it seemed to nudge against every inner ridge and soon it crooked inside him, as if making a come-hither motion, and the fingertip searched for something deep inside him. Keith bucked back, desperate for more . . .<em> ‘uh, oh, ah, so good’ </em>. . . the man lightly pushed a second finger alongside the first, while his channel stretched easily to accommodate the intruder. The two then made a scissor motion, as they thrust slowly in and out right to the base.</p><p>Keith felt the stretch on the third finger; despite the lubrication that literally squelched out of him with particularly hard thrusts, there was still a sting as unused muscles stretched open for the first time, and – with a mewling sound – he wished he had worked his way up past two fingers while masturbating in the shower. He was losing himself in the sensations, as the three fingers waggled and moved and poked, and instinctively banging back against them, as he tied to fuck himself on the thick digits that pounded against his boy-pussy. He ran a hand over his chest.</p><p>He pulled and tugged at his nipple, while he threw back his head . . . <em>‘oh yeah, man, fuck me; fuck me hard!’ </em>. . . the man rammed his fingers in with great force. The soft movements stopped, as ‘love-making’ made way to ‘fucking’, and soon a constant squelching noise echoed out wetly about the hall, as the man rammed his fingers in and out, in and out . . . <em>‘that’s it, deeper’ . . . </em>it was like heaven, but made all the better when something brushed hard on his prostate.</p><p>“<em>Holy fucking shit</em>,” screamed Keith.</p><p>The hall went white, as a burst of colour blasted over his retinas. It was a pleasure so intense, so unlike anything he had ever felt, that Keith was brought nearly to his knees, and only the arm around his waist kept him mostly upright, as he drooled a little from his mouth. The fingers continued to pound and fuck into him, aiming rightly for his prostate, until all his mouth could articulate was a broken and rhythmic: <em>‘uh, uh, uh’</em>. Every nerve was aflame.</p><p>He barely noticed as the man dropped to his knees, but he did notice as the fingers were removed, and – just as he turned to beg and cry and plead for further stimulation – the man rammed his face between Keith’s cheeks, while ramming his tongue deep inside that now loose hole. There were extremely gentle nibbles to the rim, while a tongue would sometimes sweep around, but mostly it would dart in and out, hot and wet, as it explored the hot and musty insides, groaning out with delicious vibrations. Keith was openly weeping, as he thrust down on the mouth.</p><p>The man finally unzipped his erection. Keith looked down with blown pupils and hazy eyes, where he saw a member that must have been a good six or seven inches, but also thick . . . much thicker than the three fingers . . . even tempted to the point of breaking, there was no way that he could take such a monster cock as a mere beginner. The man stood. He aimed the head straight for the hole, which felt <em>oh so fucking good</em> . . . soft like satin, hot like the sun . . .</p><p>“N-Not inside me,” gasped Keith. “Not yet!”</p><p>It took all his self-control not to recant. He wanted so much to feel it inside him, as it fucked him so hard and fast that the table would rock and shake and maybe break, and he wondered what the thick flooding of come would feel inside him . . . coating his walls, dripping from his hole . . . Keith arched his back and thrust against the cock, which slipped in to the head. <em>Jesus</em>, that felt so fucking amazing! It filled him in a place he never realised he was so empty, making him whole as he tried to get the rest inside, but the man stepped back and pulled out, as he mumbled:</p><p>“You can’t consent like this, babe.”</p><p>“Oh God,” mewled Keith. “Oh Jesus, I need you so bad!”</p><p>“Another time, sexy? How about today I make us both feel good in a different way . . .”</p><p>The man guided Keith back to the chair. He made Keith hold onto the edges of the seat, while standing bent over, and pushed his legs so tightly together that his thighs almost touched, forming the loosest of a ‘thigh gap’ that appeared just under his perineum. Keith was so hard that he could only mumble incoherently . . . <em>‘please, please, please’. . . </em>the man reached around him and hunched over him, so the warmth of his clothed chest pressed against a bared back, and – lightly, gently – he kissed over and over along Keith’s sensitive neck.</p><p>He placed one hand on Keith’s chest, where he worked expertly at a hard nipple, while the other hand came down to grip at Keith’s cock, and his member . . . his member slowly pushed between Keith’s thighs, where it found pleasure in the pressure, and the head lightly banged against a dangling set of balls as it slid all the way through. The man groaned. He lightly jerked Keith in time to his thrusts, as he banged him between his thighs with a slow and steady rhythm.</p><p>Keith felt the pleasure build within him, as he panted and gasped for breath, but little did he realise that the man was as close as him . . . soon the gentle thrusts became hard and brutal and a constant slamming that had the chair rocking loud beneath them, as the back of the chair bashed itself against the wall until plaster flaked. They both grunted and growled, while sweat dripped over Keith and his body flushed a deep shade of red, when – finally – self-control broke . . .</p><p>The man pulled back. He rammed the head of his cock inside Keith’s hole, although he refused to press any deeper and pulled back when Keith tried to ride him, and remained just there . . . teasingly . . . with the head inside the hot and eager and loose channel. The man screamed out, as his orgasm ripped through his entire body, and – shuddering, shivering – scorching hot come blasted through that tight ring and flooded those inner walls. <em>Oh fuck, </em>Keith could feel it! He could actually <em>feel</em> the come filling him to bursting point! It was wet and slippery and –</p><p>“<em>Oh holy fucking shit</em>,” choked Keith.</p><p>Keith screamed. It was a throat-ripping, gut-wrenching scream. It left him tasting iron, as saliva dripped from his mouth, and every muscle in his body tensed to the point of pain, as he feared that his knees and elbows would lock forever into their seized positions. The inner hole clamped down tight around the head of the penis. He came long and hard. It never seemed to end, as he writhed and bucked and moaned, with limbs shaking almost as if in the middle of a fit, and finally – fatigued and filled – Keith collapsed flat on the seat of the chair . . . <em>satisfied </em>. . .</p><p>“Fuck,” gasped the man. “You are <em>amazing</em>, babe.”</p><p>The man slowly pulled out the head of his cock. A trickle of come seeped out of Keith’s hole, where it slid down his inner thighs with a white trail, and – cursing – the man pulled out his phone to take a series of photographs. Keith reached back to pull apart his cheeks. He pushed his inner muscles, as if defecating, and squeezed out more come, which had the man moaning and mewling and half-hard again. It was a clear chore for him to get his cock back into his pants, and he proceeded to kiss at Keith’s back and lick at his hole, until he finally groaned:</p><p>“I have to go, babe. I wish I could stay, but –”</p><p>“Don’t you want to eat me out? Can’t you fuck me?”</p><p>“I would if I could.” The man sighed. “Tell you what, next time you order a pizza -? Ask for ‘Mike’ and order another extra-large sausage, okay? I’ll come over and take care of you personally, with no charge and a free pizza . . . call around ten-thirty, as it’ll be my last call.”</p><p>Mike sighed, as he kissed again and again over that smooth back. He finally pulled away and wandered over to the door, unable to tear his eyes away from Keith, before finally – with a loud <em>‘fuck’</em> opening the door and stumbling backward outside. Keith giggled. The man was simply staring at him, unable to go back inside and unable to tear himself away, but – after the longest minute of their lives – blew a kiss to Keith and waved with a come-covered hand.</p><p>Keith blushed and blew a kiss back . . .</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Lance - Face-Fucking</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The bathroom stall was cramped. It was barely enough space to sit down, and made worse by how the facilities were both so dirty and old, so much so that the seat was cracked and the base dripped with a disgusting yellowish liquid onto the stained tiled floor. If Keith had not been desperate during class, he may have waited until he went home. He stood up. He was still tucking his school shirt back into his trousers, when he heard the bathroom doors open and close.</p><p>A pair of whispered voices walked past the urinals, until they stopped outside his cubicle. They both wore the same shoes and trousers as any other student, marking them as one of his peers, and the chances were that Iverson had sent them to check on him for taking so long. Keith folded his arms over his chest. He simply stood and waited, until he made out the voices clearly enough to realise the identity of their owners: Hunk and Lance. He took in a deep breath, as his heart started to pound loudly in his chest. The first voice said with a mocking lilt:</p><p>“Is the slut still in there?”</p><p>“Yeah, I don’t know what’s taking so long,” said Lance. “I bet he’s jerking off or something. I heard that he’s been giving out blow jobs and hand jobs to the teachers; Iverson lets him come in tardy, leave early, get away with breaches of uniform . . . he’s a right teacher’s pet.”</p><p>“Why’s <em>he</em> the favourite? I mean, if it’s just ‘cause of a few blow jobs -?”</p><p>“The way he fucks around, he <em>must</em> be giving awesome head . . .”</p><p>Keith rolled his eyes. He unlocked the door stormed out. Lance and Hunk failed to have the decency to even feign surprise, as if they both smirked and ran their eyes over him, and Lance in particular stared hard at Keith’s crotch, with his tongue sneaking out to run a light line over his lips, as if picturing what lay underneath against his eager tongue. Keith rolled his eyes. He pushed past them without much grace, even shoving Hunk a little with his shoulder, before washing his hands quickly in the sink. He avoided making eye-contact.</p><p>They said nothing as he washed up, but were quick to move when he moved. They darted in front of him, blocking his way back to the urinals and front door, and Keith took in a sharp intake of breath, as his back instinctively straightened. The quickening heart-rate brought a pain to his chest, as his hands clenched into fists at his side. Hunk chuckled. The way he cracked his knuckles spoke of someone brawling for a fight. Keith pushed forward and spat out:</p><p>“Move out the way, idiot.”</p><p>Lance shoved him. It was a hard push to both shoulders, which had him crashing back against the wall between cubicles and sinks, and his head – colliding with tiles – rang out with a stinging pain that had him bringing a shaking hand to his scalp. He pulled it back. No blood. Lance darted forward, where he slammed a hand hard to the side of Keith’s head. Keith flinched. He tried to look away, but Lance forced his face a mere inch from his own, while moving it in time with Keith so that Keith was physically unable to look anywhere else. Keith choked:</p><p>“What’s your problem, man?”</p><p>“My problem is <em>you</em>,” spat Lance. “You march around here like you’re king of the school! The teachers all give you special treatment, but we all know it’s because you’re a whore. It’s not fucking fair, that you get anything and everything handed to you on a silver platter, while the rest of us have to work hard and study and do our best every minute of every day! It’s not <em>fair</em>!”</p><p>“Dude, that sounds like <em>your</em> problem, not <em>my</em> problem.”</p><p>“Well, now I’m making it your problem!”</p><p>“Look, life isn’t all peaches and cream for me either!” Keith pushed back. “In case you haven’t noticed, my mother <em>abandoned </em>me as a child and my dad’s <em>always</em> at work, and I’ve a ‘boyfriend’ that keeps blackmailing me with photographs and videos to do sex acts on other men!”</p><p>Lance pulled back. The hardness to his expression softened, as his arm fell limp about the elbow, and his shoulders dropped as if freed from a weight, while his mouth opened and closed with the floundering of a fish out of water. He stepped back. He scratched at the back of his neck, as he looked to Hunk and back to Keith again. There was a dark flush to his cheeks. Lance finally furrowed his brow, before hooking his thumbs into his pockets, and looked sheepishly at the floor, as his foot kicked lazily at the tiles and he shrugged once more. He mumbled out:</p><p>“Yeah, well . . . you seem to enjoy it.”</p><p>“Honestly?” Keith rolled his eyes. “I sometimes do, yeah.”</p><p>Lance’s mouth dropped open. Hunk burst out into laughter. It was almost contagious, as a small smirk broke over Keith’s lips, and he folded his arms across his chest, before staring off casually at a distant spot in hopes of ignoring them both. Lance hardened. The muscles tensed; he lifted his chin high, while his hands clenched into fists, and his nostrils flared with a harsh exhale, while he raked his eyes slowly over Keith. The momentary sympathy and guilt were gone. He stepped forward, enough that goose-bumps broke over Keith’s flesh, and spat out:</p><p>“I told you he’s a fucking come-whore.”</p><p>A low hum escaped from Keith. He slowly ran a hand from his neck down his chest, before it stopped just short of his zipper . . . he let loose an exaggerated gasp . . . finally – locking eyes with Lance – Keith slid his hand inside his trousers. The fingers brushed against his neatly tucked member, sending a brief shiver down his spine, and his other hand pulled loose his shirt, before it ran beneath the fabric up to his nipple. He tweaked and tugged it into an erect state, playing with his chest and groin beneath his clothes, and licked his lips to ask:</p><p>“Are you jealous?”</p><p>Lance grimaced. He stepped back as is burned. A chuckle echoed about the empty bathroom, but this time from Keith as he unbuttoned his shirt and trousers. They were soon pushed low, where they exposed the entirety of his upper legs and groin, and he lightly took a hold of his still flaccid length, while working his and lightly over the soft foreskin. He locked eyes with Lance. A wide-mouthed expression was the only response, before Lance’s lip curled and he half-raised his arms as if caught between throwing a punch and yanking Keith closer.  </p><p>“Wh-What?” Lance spat. “No, you sick freak!”</p><p>“You are jealous, aren’t you?”</p><p>“I – I’m not a <em>fag</em> l-like you! <em>No</em>! Gross, man!”</p><p>Keith dropped down to his knees. He crawled across the dirty floor on hands and knees, made even harder by how his trousers caught awkwardly around his thighs, and let his buttocks stand out on full view to both sets of wandering eyes. Keith moaned, as his cock grew half-hard. He chanced a glance to Hunk, who was fumbling with his phone and seemed desperate to record, and – brimming with pride – continued to crawl until he finally reached Lance.</p><p>Lance stared down at him with wide eyes, as Keith dropped onto the backs of his legs. He parted his thighs wide, while he placed his hands submissively flat against the creamy skin, and arched his back to expose his erect nipples through his opened shirt. Keith craned his head to look up at Lance, who still seemed unsure where to look . . . eyes on Keith one minute, Hunk the next . . . he was visibly hardening, too, with a tent in his trousers. He was roughly average in length, if Keith was any judge of matters, but there was no knowing until it was unleashed from its prison.</p><p>“A mouth is a mouth, right?” Keith licked his lips. “Just think of it as no different from a flesh-light or your own hand. Is it gay to get off in the shower? Is it gay to touch yourself? If it worries you, just think about Romelle and call out her name when you come.”</p><p>A low groan was the only response. Keith chuckled and took it as an ‘okay’, before sliding his hands with great care along the calves in front of him . . . slowly over knees, slowly over thighs . . . stopping only once he reached the button of his trousers. They were easy to undo, while the zipper slid down to expose beautiful blue boxers. Keith slid his hand through the slid and gently pulled out a beautiful and slender cock, one thin and long and straight, and – just as his mouth began to water – Lance jerked away and stumbled back a good few steps.</p><p>He had one hand raised to his lips, as if to hide his contorted expression. The other was held before him with fingers parted and palm out, almost as if to forcibly keep Keith at bay, and his skin was a deathly pale, despite how his erection twitched and knocked against his stomach. Keith pushed himself upright. He looked Lance over with a curled lip, not even bothering to tuck himself away again, and rolled his eyes in Lance’s direction, not even hiding his contempt.</p><p>“Knew you’d chicken out,” laughed Keith.</p><p>Keith walked past Lance. He kept his head high. Laughter continued to spill from his lips, as he reached down to tuck his erection back inside his boxers, but – as his hand barely made contact with his length – a set of strong fingers wrapped hard around his neck. They caught him off guard. He lost his breath. It was a horrid choking sensation, provoking nausea and a burning bile at the back of his throat, and – with great force – he was thrown to the ground. Lance screamed:</p><p>“I told you, I’m not a fag!”</p><p>A sharp pain ran through Keith’s elbow and side. He landed at an odd angle, one that had his ribs smashing against the tiles, and he spluttered and coughed and struggled to catch his breath, before two rough hands snatched at the lapels of his jacket. They dragged him forcibly back into the cubicle, where they threw him harshly against the toilet. Keith landed awkwardly on the lid, splayed out like a rag doll, while Lance blasted his way through the open door.</p><p>He loomed in the doorway as a dark shadow; Hunk stood on the toilet in the stall adjacent, so that he could film over the partition wall and keep an eye on events, and between the two Keith struggled to hide his now full-blown erection, as a low moan broke free from him. Keith squirmed on the toilet seat. He smacked his lips and licked at them, while Lance stepped forward with his legs on either side of Keith’s, and – with a loud ‘<em>you cock-teasing bitch’</em> – smacked his now erect cock hard and fast against Keith’s cheeks. He ran pre-come all over him.</p><p>Keith chased after it with an open mouth. He extended his tongue and occasionally got a swipe against that erect length, tasting the bitter pre-come that was never as nice as the final product, and – with a groan – puckered his lips in an attempt to suckle at the cock each time it came his way, desperate for a real taste of the smooth skin. Lance laughed . . . <em>‘damned come-slut’ </em>. . . he continued to slap and stroke and slide his cock all over Keith’s face in an erratic manner, smearing his face shin with pre-come, before – finally – ramming it deep inside.</p><p>It nearly choked him. The thick head went past the back of his throat, triggering his gag reflex, but the contractions of his throat merely had Lance groaning and moaning from the fluttering sensations, as he threw back his head oblivious to Keith’s wide eyes and paled face. A stream of saliva dripped from the base of the cock down onto the tiles, while he pounded and slapped at thick thighs and fought to breathe in through his nose, as he held back his panic.</p><p>“Oh fuck, this is good,” mewled Lance.</p><p>The thick fingers dug deep into his hair; they pulled hard enough to send pain through his scalp while his tongue pressed against the underside of the throbbing cock, and pre-come lay bitter against his taste-buds. Tears streamed down his eyes. He blinked hard as his vision blurred and his head grew light; his chest tightened, his heart raced, and finally sparks of light burst about his vision, while a terrible pain tore through his throat and chest. Keith grew faint . . .</p><p>Lance pulled him back just in time. Keith choked and retched and spluttered, as he fought back the bile and undigested food that threatened to turn into vomit, and yet – as he caught his breath, red in the face and eyes wet with tears – Lance took barely any mercy on him. He face-fucked him with a vengeance. It could hardly be called a ‘blow job’, and certainly not ‘oral sex’, as he rammed his cock balls deep into Keith’s throat, before pulling almost fully out, and shoving it violently back inside with a fast and furious rhythm, with loud squelches echoing out.</p><p>Keith remained hard, as Lance grunted and groaned. He tried to work his tongue around the length, while hollowing out his cheeks and moaning to provide vibrations, but full control belonged to Lance, whose balls slammed loudly against his chin . . . <em>‘you look so hot on your knees, you little bitch’ </em>. . . saliva and pre-come soaked Keith’s chin, along with tears and mucus down his cheeks, while Hunk continued to film from over the partition. Hunk mumbled:</p><p>“Is this really okay to upload to the site when you’re done?”</p><p>“I didn’t see any oral stuff. It’ll be popular . . .”</p><p>“Doesn’t make it right.”</p><p>“It doesn’t make it wrong either, now shut up!”</p><p>Lance continued his death-grip on Keith. The previous choking had left Keith’s erection at half-mast, but each time he looked up revealed face contorted in ecstasy . . . <em>lips part, low ‘ooh’ sounds breaking out, head thrown back . . . </em>the arousal and desire was all for Keith. It was enough for Keith to smile as much as the blow job would allow, as he started to buck his head against Lance’s crotch, matching his rhythm as much as he was able in his position.</p><p>The downward stroke would have his nose pressed painfully to pubic bone, where it drew in the thick and musty scent of sex, and each upward stroke brought a slurping sound, as the cock glistened in the artificial light with saliva covering every inch of flesh. The cock twitched in his mouth. The pre-come spurted out fast and hard. Lance was on the verge of coming . . . close to orgasm, close to breaking . . . <em>‘oh yeah, take it, take it you cunt’ </em>. . . the cock ripped itself from his lips, as Lance yanked back Keith’s head and jerked fast on his length.</p><p>Keith kept his mouth open in expectation. The first rope of come hit him in his eye, with a horrible stinging that brought more tears, and the next went awkwardly up his nostril with another burning, and – after that – he lost track of placements. He groaned as come dripped into his mouth, while some shots went specifically against his tongue. It tasted good. It tasted <em>so</em> fucking good! When Lance finally stumbled back, cock half-hard, Keith remained sitting on the toilet with his face dripping with white, hot come . . . he licked at his lips and writhed . . .</p><p>He was hard again . . . so hard it hurt. Keith slid onto his knees, while one hand went to his cock and the other moved to his nipples, and he worked them in tandem with perfect timing, even as he craned his head to look upward at Hunk, who filmed open-mouthed. He licked his lips. He blew a kiss. The lens had a perfect view of him masturbating to a face slicked with man-juice, while his open shirt clung to him with sweat, and he gasped out in a hoarse voice:</p><p>“Hunk, can I blow you, too?”</p><p>Hunk practically threw the camera at Lance. He shoved the other man back, as he stumbled and raced into the stall, and – wrenching out his cock – wasted no time in shoving it inside Keith’s waiting mouth, while Lance grumbled in taking position in the adjacent stall. It was Lance’s time to film, as Hunk braced both hands weirdly on the stall walls. He refused to so much as buck his hips. The power belonged entirely to Keith this time, as he worked Hunk eagerly with low moans.</p><p>He brought a hand to the base of the cock, which he moved in time to his throat. It made a milking motion and twisted lightly on each upstroke, while Keith hollowed out his cheeks as he sucked in earnest, and his eyes – sparkling and dilated – looked up seductively to Hunk with absolute desire and desperation. Keith alternated his speeds . . . <em>fast one moment, slow the next</em> . . . his tongue dipped into the slit and rapidly flicked, before circling underneath the head and running along the underside. The stimulation was too much for an apparent virgin.</p><p>Hunk cried out loud enough that Lance hissed: <em>‘you’re going to get us fucking caught</em>’! The loud cry turned into a gurgled groan, one still just as loud in volume, before it became a series of high-pitched <em>‘oh god, oh god, oh god’</em> . . . hot come spurted out over Keith’s tongue, allowing his mouth to fill with that delicious taste, but this time Keith refused to swallow. He simply pulled away, letting the now deflating erection slip out of his mouth, and showed the camera all the come that filled him to his lips . . . he gurgled the come . . . he swallowed.</p><p>Hunk tumbled back toward the sink. He remained exposed for a good few minutes, lacking the strength to tuck himself away, and – despite the lack of hygiene – Keith slid onto his back and lay on the bathroom floor, while Lance joked about golden showers. He panted. He continued to masturbate in full view of both boys, while he writhed and moaned and ached his back, and the taste of come was still strong on his tongue, as the come on his face started to dry.</p><p>“What a fucking whore,” laughed Hunk.</p><p>That was all it took: Keith came. It was an unbelievable orgasm, one that had him arching his back so hard that his muscles started to hurt, and his shirt fell ever wider to expose his entire torso, as ropes of come shot far enough to make it past his nipples. The first joined some of the come on his chin, while the rest decorated his chest and abdomen, and then it started to pool around his belly-button, where it collected inside like a small and silvery reservoir.</p><p>He lay there fatigued and used on the floor. A brief fear came that someone else might enter the bathroom and see him . . . use him, too . . . except he felt <em>so fucking good</em> that he failed to bring himself to care; even if a hundred students lined up to use him, nothing could get rid of that amazing afterglow that had his nerves tingling with pleasure. Keith ran his hands lazily over his chest and groin, while Lance came around for various zoom-in shots. He muttered something in Spanish, what sounded like various insults, and finally stepped back to laugh out:</p><p>“You’re going to blow us every lunch from now on, Kogane.”</p><p>Keith chuckled. He was half-hard again, as his member grew more and more erect at the idea of being used regularly by Hunk and Lance . . . both fucking his throat, both raping his mouth . . . and he moved his hand to jerk himself, even as their footsteps slowly backed away towards the main doors. They were joking with each other, while replaying the video of him being face-fucked, and they laughed in such a way that made it clear they thought the joke was on Keith, even as Keith forewent his refractory period for a second round with himself.</p><p>“Don’t be late,” shouted Keith.</p><p>They paused. They left . . .</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Iverson - Train Sex</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Excuse me,” muttered Keith.</p><p>The train was far from packed, but still it was crowded enough to provide a nuisance. A few people milled about at random points along the carriage, usually stands mid-aisle with their hands on poles, and sometimes the entire train would rattle, as the lights flickered on and off. He stumbled a few times. A hand would be thrown onto some stranger, who would jerk away from him or look at him with a cold glare, before he would move again to the carriage doors.</p><p>He finally made his way through the three carriages. The doors to the final carriage opened, letting loose a wretched stench that made him gag, and – struggling for breath – the scents of urine and marijuana mingled into one humid mess. A string of graffiti covered the rickety carriage, some even on the windows and floor. There were only five passengers in total. Iverson and Shiro sat on the seats immediately before the outside doors, while three men of various ages sat scattered throughout. One teenager stared at him in his private school uniform. They scowled.</p><p>Keith kept his head down, as he darted towards the extreme end with great speed. The floor squelched underfoot, while sometimes his foot would lose its grip and side, but eventually he was able to lean against the far wall and face the glass of the door. It was difficult to see anything other than his reflection, until the lights flickered off again, but he noticed well enough as Shiro and Iverson stood in his peripheral vision and stood behind him and to his side.</p><p>“I see you kept your uniform on,” said Shiro.</p><p>Shiro pulled out his phone. He aimed it at Keith and said ‘smile’ in a sickly saccharine tone, while leaning against the half-partition between doors and seats, and slowly raked it from the bottom of his feet to the top of his blushing face. Iverson simply stood behind him. He was close enough that his crotch pushed against buttocks, and his hands lightly ran along the sides and back of Keith, while he bemoaned the fabrics that made this so impersonal. Keith ignored him, as he assumed the expected position: bent forward, palms pressed to glass.</p><p>“You told me to wear my uniform,” sighed Keith.</p><p>“Yeah, he did,” laughed Iverson. “You’re such an obedient little slut, aren’t you? I wonder what else Shiro can get you to wear . . . make you say . . . force you to do. If all it takes is one text from his phone, I’ll have to borrow that at some point; I’ve some fantasies for you to fulfil. I’d love to see you crawling on hands-and-knees in bondage gear to suck some cock.”</p><p>“So long as you buy the gear, I’ll wear it for you.” Keith smirked. “I’ll even crawl to you, kneel between your legs, and <em>beg</em> to be fed your cock, while mewling ‘Daddy’ like you like . . . but I want more than an A grade this time. I want a week off school without a marked absence.”</p><p>“Perfect attendance with a week ditching classes?"</p><p>Iverson groped at his clothed buttocks. It was an aggressive hold, with enough force that it knocked Keith onto his toes and bent his outstretched arms, and – as he let loose a low gasp – he instinctively bucked down onto those grasping fingers, which dug into his flesh. He grew half-hard at memories of how Iverson would cane him bare-bottomed after class, while begging Keith to let him finally fuck him, and each time Keith would say no . . . now was time to finally say ‘yes’, as Iverson squeezed and massaged his perfect globes. Iverson whispered into his ear:</p><p>“Hmm. Okay, I can do that.”</p><p>The camera was pulled back to get both into frame, while Shiro licked at his lips and squeezed at his barely hidden erection in turn, and whispered something in a language that Keith failed to recognise, before zooming in on those callused hands on his buttocks. Keith – with a huff – pressed his forehead to the cold glass, while he spread his legs and pressed his forearms flat on either side of his head. He cast a quick gaze about the mostly empty carriage and asked:</p><p>“What i-if anyone . . . you know . . . <em>sees</em> us?”</p><p>Iverson reached around to unbutton the trousers. He brushed a rough hand against an already half-hard cock, soliciting a quick gasp from Keith, who bit into his lip to hold back on further sounds, but – as Iverson deliberately brushed against him again – a low moan forced itself from his throat and drew the attention of an elderly man only a few seats down from them. The partition was not at an angle to hide their lower bodies from sight, at least not from him.</p><p>The idea of the man watching them – <em>aroused, fascinated, shocked</em> – was enough for Keith to go from half-hard to full-mast, as Iverson quickly loosened his trousers and dropped them without any respect for the uniform that would be needed tomorrow for school. They fell with a heavy thud about his knees, but would not go any further due to how wide his legs were spread. It left his buttocks and balls on clear view, while his erect member was likely hidden from sight, and the man was watching now with an open mouth and hand clenching the arm of his glasses.</p><p>Keith lifted his head enough to watch the man in the reflection, while wondering how he looked from behind to a man old enough to be his grandfather . . . his erection twitched. The man wanted him . . . <em>needed </em>him. Keith felt his erection twitch and dance, as pre-come spurted from the tip and leaked down the shaft. He blew a kiss to the man. Iverson laughed and slapped his buttock hard enough to leave a visible red handprint, as he spat out:</p><p>“Do you <em>want</em> them to see, boy?”</p><p>Iverson groped him again. He proceeded to hold tight to one buttock, before using his index finger to trace a long – and hard-pressed – line from testicles to taint to hole. The pressure and warmth was deeply erotic on his most intimate area, sending shivers down his spine, and soon the fingertip came to his winking hole, where it traced slow circles around the ring. Iverson spread his buttocks with his free hand, while Shiro came around to get a close-up of the pre-lubricated hole that was slick with sweat and moisture. A small dribble of strawberry-scented lubrication dripped out and left a sticky mark on the callused fingertips.</p><p>“It’s kind of hot that they want to watch, yeah,” gasped Keith.</p><p>“Still such a slut,” laughed Iverson. “To put your mind to rest, boy, this is the last train for the night and both departure point and destination are . . . well . . . shall we just say that they’re in very rough neighbourhoods? You probably spotted that from the graffiti and drugs.”</p><p>“Well, they were kind of hard to miss.”</p><p>“The only people on this train are the kinds that aren’t going to say shit, and – if anything – they’ll probably want to join in . . . I wouldn’t recommend coming on here alone, but if you want to earn an extra few bucks in future -? I’ll come on here with you. I can look out for you, make sure you only get the best clients, kind of like a free bodyguard.”</p><p>“You mean ‘pimp’ and not ‘bodyguard’.”</p><p>“Ouch, you have one sassy mouth on you Kogane. I’d offer to put it to good use, but I paid a lot to Shiro to be the one to pop that cherry of yours . . . you want this, though, right? I’d not be able to live with myself if you were being forced or felt coerced . . . you do want this?”</p><p>Iverson slid a finger deep inside Keith. It brought out a loud cry, as Keith fisted his hands and reopened them in rapid succession, and – when the finger crooked against his prostate – he raked his digits down the glass and arched his back like a bitch in heat. The teenager down the carriage looked their way, while a middle-aged commuter craned his neck in their direction. The lights flickered on and off again, as Iverson slowly slid his finger in and out . . . <em>in and out</em> . . . while Keith watched the two men watching him. He drooled a little from the corner of his mouth.</p><p>A second finger slid in alongside the first, where it barely affected his already prepared and stretched hole, and – in fact – Keith’s inner walls moulded themselves around those invading digits to perfection, as they started to ram in deep and hard into his rectum. They started to scissor inside him, where occasionally a fingertip would push hard on his prostate. He brought his hands to his face. He clamped them over his mouth, but struggled to hold back cries.</p><p>“Oh – Oh god,” choked Keith.</p><p>Iverson reached into his pocket. He took out a small tube of lubricant, which squirted with an almost humorous squelch over his fingers, and this time – without any pause – he rammed three fingers deep inside Keith with an almost violent thrust. Keith screamed. It was a pleasured sound beyond his control, as he clenched down on the digits and bucked back against them, and his head was thrown back to expose his throat and open mouth. Tears pricked at his eyes.</p><p>The fingers started to fuck him with wild abandon, while spreading and poking and curling inside him with total freedom to explore every inch . . . every internal ridge . . . Keith thrust down onto them with a furious rhythm. They squelched. They slapped. It sent out obscene sounds rolling about the carriage, while Keith clawed and pounded on the carriage windows . . . <em>‘yes, yes, oh god, yes, fuck me’ </em>. . . he was breathless, gasping and panting, and barely noticed as the elderly man came to stand close for a better view, as he shouted out in a hoarse voice:</p><p>“Yes, <em>I fucking want this</em>!”</p><p>Keith unbuttoned his shirt. It fell open to expose his bare chest, and his erect nipples were visible in the reflection, along with the elderly man now so close to Iverson that he could probably reach out and touch Keith . . . <em>he did</em> . . . Keith cried out in pleasure. The elderly man groped at his buttocks, until Iverson laughed and nodded at the man to stand on the opposite side to Shiro, so that the camera could still get a decent shot. Keith was still fucking himself on now four fingers, when the man reached out to play with his nipples . . . this old man . . . <em>this stranger </em>. . .</p><p>“<em>Oh, holy, fuck</em>,” gasped Keith.</p><p>He nearly came as the man pulled at his nipples, almost bringing his skin out in mockery of a pair of small breasts, before tweaking and twirling them to send waves of pleasure bursting through every single nerve in Keith’s body, setting him alight to the point of breaking. Keith threw his arms high against the glass, as he pressed his mouth to them to hide his moans . . . <em>‘uh, oh, Jesus, oh’ . . . </em>the teenager and middle-aged man were coming closer, too. They kept their distance, however, while Shiro continued to film and Iverson – slapping him again – spat out:</p><p>“I know how you’ll be earning your A grades from now on, kid.”</p><p>“If you fuck as good as you finger, I’ll let you fuck me for free.”</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>, kid. You’re too perfect for words . . .”</p><p>Iverson worked on releasing his erection. The elderly man was now touching every inch of Keith’s chest and abdomen, relishing in touching firm and youthful flesh, and his fingers would come dangerously close to the weeping member, which might just explode with a powerful orgasm with the slightest of touches. Keith moaned. The winking hole awaited someone – or something – to fill it to the brim . . . Keith writhed . . . he let loose a stream of unintelligible words, while he jerked his hips towards Iverson, who – <em>finally</em> – freed his cock.</p><p>The camera was filming from all sorts of angles, while a series of flashes revealed one of the random men was taking photographs of him. The teenager laughed and called him a whore, while coming in close for better shots, and the elderly man would yank at his nipples any time Keith tried to look behind him to see the teenager. Every so often, the teenager would stroke at his buttocks or tickle his hole, until Iverson elbowed the boy away. Iverson pushed in to the hilt.</p><p>“<em>Jesus Christ</em>,” cried Keith.</p><p>The cock was deep inside him, filling him completely and utterly. It was hot beyond that of his fingers, like receiving a hot stone massage from the inside, and it made him feel so complete . . . so full . . . that he had never realised how empty he felt before. It stretched him just enough to feel it, but not enough to hurt him. The head rested against his prostate. Keith clenched his inner walls around the shaft, as he tried so hard to get used to the cock deep inside his hole.</p><p>Iverson gave him time to adjust. Keith looked from side to side. The camera was extremely close to his hole, as the puffed and swollen lips gripped tight around Iverson, and Shiro was seemingly erect enough to give a very visible tent to his trousers. The elderly man was now touching himself, as he openly worked his old cock just inches from Keith. He continued to toy with Keith’s nipples, all while the teenager heckled and teased and goaded them on, and the middle-aged man made gasped breaths that spoke either of arousal or masturbation.</p><p>Keith smiled. He gazed at his reflection with half-lidded eyes, while he felt Iverson slowly pull out with a strange friction and encroaching emptiness, as if his inner walls were collapsing around the penis as it left him. The train came to a stop. It seemed to stop for an incident up ahead, casting them in a flickering light that caused Shiro to swear, and – waiting for the light to return before he slammed hard to the hilt deep inside Keith, as he choked out:</p><p>“God, you feel so good, boy.”</p><p>The speed picked up, as Iverson thrust into him in earnest. The sound of balls against buttocks echoed out, while small sounds emitted from his behind, and Keith gasped out like a mantra: <em>‘uh, uh, uh’</em>. He struggled to catch his breath under the weight of the grown man, especially bent forward and forced to brace himself on the doors. The flashing lights of cameras continued. It was so fast, so deep . . . <em>so good</em> . . . Keith drooled, as his mouth fell open.</p><p>Iverson pounded him as if desperate. It knocked Keith back and forth, back and forth, until his head smashed in an almost painful rhythm against the door, and he barely noticed as a second train pulled up alongside them, also stopped for whatever reason. A spark of colour danced about his retinas each time the cock-head pressed against his prostate, while his muscles seized painfully in his legs and arms, and his body trembled almost violently, as if in a seizure. A sweat broke over his skin. The flesh burned a vibrant red. It was good . . . <em>so, so, so good</em> . . .</p><p>“Look forward,” ordered Iverson.</p><p>Keith struggled to open his eyes, as pleasure rushed to his erection. He was still mewling and crying and whimpering, with tears streaming down his cheeks, as he forced his gaze to the train opposite, where – when their lights went out – he saw into the carriage opposite. A couple of schoolgirls, from only a grade higher, stood giggling side-by-side, while an older man leaned against the wall beside him with an open-mouth. They were all looking at him. In fact, the girls were pointing and <em>filming </em>him . . . it would only be time before the video was spread around.</p><p>Shiro stood behind the wall, just out of sight. Iverson purposely kept his head pressed against Keith’s shoulder, so they would only see maybe his dark skin and crown of his head, and so there would likely be no punishment to either of them, especially in a carriage without cameras. The only person known on the video would be Keith . . . being taken by a dark man, touched by an elderly man, and filmed by a man just off-screen . . . Keith being fucked and <em>liking</em> it . . .</p><p>He was close. It was so fucking arousing to have such an audience, one that wanted him and needed him, and his words were soon incoherent and mumbled, as he choked on saliva with breathless cries. The elderly man touched his cock. It was all it took. Keith screamed again, clawing at the glass, as his inner walls clenched down like a vice around that cock, and his erection spewed out ropes of come fast and hard onto the glass of the door, where it dripped down with an obvious white trail. The world went white, as Keith seemed to leave his body.</p><p>“Oh shit,” gasped Iverson. “Oh fucking shit!”</p><p>Keith was still lost in giddy heights of orgasmic bliss. His head rolled, while the elderly man still jerked and pulled at his now softening member, which dribbled come over the hairy knuckles, and the trains – with a jittering and shuddering sound – moved once more. Iverson bit into Keith’s jacket, which muffled his cries, as he came deep inside . . . come gushing out like a geyser, as it sprayed hot liquid over Keith’s inner walls. It seemed never-ending, as Keith’s muscles contracted and milked him until his balls ran dry, and soon both were exhausted.</p><p>The cock soon slid out of his winking hole, but he was far from empty for long. Iverson tucked himself away with admirable speed, only to whip out a small black butt-plug from his pocket, one complete with a furry tail of some sort, and – laughing – rammed it mercilessly hard inside Keith’s well-used anus. It plugged him perfectly, so that the come was locked inside and impossible to leak outside from the edges. The teenager behind them shouted over:</p><p>“Are you sure I can’t pay for a go?”</p><p>“Sorry, pal,” said Shiro. “It’s his first time. We’re still breaking him in, but if he’s up for a bit of action then we’ll see if he consents to making a bit of cash . . . same time next week -? No guarantees, but at least you’ll get a good show for your trouble. Invite a friend.”</p><p>Iverson laughed low and deep. He slapped hard at Keith’s buttock, while stepping to one side, and let Shiro and the two men behind get a series of good footage and videos. Keith struggled to maintain his position, as he dreamily and hazily hummed and smiled and ran a hand over his chest and neck and thighs, and – licking his lips – watched the elderly man beside him, who was jerking his cock with loud fapping noises and small grunts. He dropped to his knees and turned to face the man, before taking the cock deep into his mouth, as Shiro gasped out:</p><p>“Jesus, fuck! I love this slut.”</p><p>The cock was big enough to trigger his gag reflex. He would choke and gag around the head, where his throat would contract around the hot flesh and cause the slit to weep, and the sweet liquid would run against his taste-buds. Iverson continued to laugh, even as his hand pulled out a small silver remote and hit a switch. The butt-plug vibrated. He screamed around the old man’s cock, sending wonderful vibrations down the shaft, and the man – grunting – grabbed hard at his hair and yanked him so close that his nose painfully pressed to pubic hair. The teenager asked:</p><p>“Can I at least come on him?”</p><p>“Sure,” said Shiro. “Go ahead.”</p><p>The teenager laughed, while Keith wept as his arousal returned. It may have been a short butt-plug, but the vibrations were intense and fast and stimulated him just right, and – bobbing his head on the cock in front of him – Keith barely noticed as the teenager half-squatted and jerked his member just a few inches from his head. It did not take long . . . <em>one, two, three strokes</em> . . . come spurted out and sprayed over Keith’s hair, as the old man yanked away a hand, and coated his black locks, earlobe, cheeks, and even his lips as they ran over the erection.</p><p>It was enough to set off the man in turn. He used his other hand to wrench away Keith’s head, forcing swollen lips to part and mouth to open in search of come, and Keith licked the air with a broken and desperate moan, as he searched for sustenance. The man finally reached his orgasm, as he shot come all over Keith’s face and neck and chest, where it dripped warm over his cool skin, and – even as he was still coming – Keith shouted out in a high-pitched voice:</p><p>“Can that man fuck me, too?”</p><p>“Oh <em>fuck</em>,” gasped Shiro.</p><p>The elderly man continued to come, even as Iverson signalled to the middle-aged gentleman. The last and final man waited politely for him to fully finish, as his penis softened and he fell back against the wall, before marching toward Keith and dropping to the floor. He snatched at two ankles and pulled them over his head, where the rolled up trousers rested strangely behind his neck as if in a makeshift sling to keep them in place, and he quickly positioned his dick at the well-used hole, while Keith was bent awkwardly in two. The man spat out:</p><p>“We're only ten minutes to the last stop . . .”</p><p>The man slide inside Keith with no resistance. Keith mewled. He arched his back and threw his arms over his head, where hands pressed against the door, and his come-soaked face stared at the dirty and graffiti-covered ceiling with a glazed and unfocussed stare. The man started to thrust with a wild and primal pace, uncaring for anything other than his own pleasure, as he used Keith as nothing more than a fuck-hole. He continued to pound away, as Shiro laughed out:</p><p>“Then we’ll move it into the station toilets . . .”</p><p>“Sounds like a plan, my man.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Iverson - Somnophila</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Keith paled.</p><p>The website was almost professionally designed. It featured a top-navigation system with clear drop-down menus, and each one was labelled so that any layman could find wanted content with a mere three clicks at most. The section labelled ‘videos’ contained a sub-menu of several different options: ‘anal’, ‘group’, ‘oral’, ‘hand-jobs’, and ‘misc.’ There were also sections for photographs, audio recordings, and textual communications. It was incredibly detailed.</p><p>He chanced to click on the ‘videos’, which led to all videos by date, and contained a search box that could change them to alphabetical or by uploader, and saw a series of thumbnails with clear descriptions beneath each one, with most being uploaded by Shiro. There were videos of him streaking down the street, including one of him stopping to blow the guy on the corner that always watched him, and videos of him in the shower masturbating, where a camera must have been slipped in through an open window. He even saw videos of him getting changed.</p><p>It was incredibly voyeuristic. Keith was hardly surprised to see three videos of him on the train, taken by different cameras, and two of him in the train bathroom . . . bent over before the glory hole where the old man and teenager took turns to use his gaping anus, before Shiro started to take cash from passersby for them to use him in turn. At a few points, Keith was taking anonymous cocks from behind, while blowing those from a second glory hole up front, and touching himself as he looked to the camera with smiles and half-lidded eyes.</p><p>The video was enough to get him half-hard again, as he struggled to keep his phone between ear and shoulder, and moved to click the ‘VIP’ button on the top-menu with a trembling finger, one that seemed to struggle to click at the mouse. Shiro watched him through the window and webcam, as both men sat in their respective bedrooms. The VIP section seemed to be a live-stream to his bedroom, complete with a ‘request box’ that was separate to the ‘donations’ box.</p><p>“Shiro,” said Keith. “You – You published <em>everything</em>.”</p><p>The donations box and comments box were universal, appearing on every page and every section, but the requests were just for paying members . . . <em>‘love to see him stuck in a fence, men lining up to use him - $250’, ‘id fuc him irl - £1700 (plus expenses)’, ‘Can I see him with that dog of his? - $780.50’ . . . </em>Keith curled his lip, as he clicked back to the comments. They were hardly any less obscene: <em>‘I love the way his hole winks when aroused’, ‘that little slut deserves a good pounding’, ‘i wish i could rape that boy-pussy’, ‘man, hes dam hot &amp; sexy’</em>. Keith spat out:</p><p>“There’s even the videos Lance took of me on there!”</p><p>“Yeah,” laughed Shiro. “I figured I’d add an old-school forum, along with a section for guest-submitted videos . . . mostly it’s just Lance with oral shots, but one of the guys on the train uploaded their footage of you being fucked, and one guy in the glory hole worked recognised you and snuck in some shots from his end, too. I also paid the mailman to upload some.”</p><p>“W-Which ones did he –?”</p><p>“The mailman got in a few facials and fingering videos. It’s a shame the pizza-guy seems legitimately a good guy, as I’d have loved some POV ones of you riding him like a whore. I mean . . . wow! How many times did you fuck him after losing your cherry to Iverson?”</p><p>Keith looked at his desk. A blush struck his cheeks, as he saw Shiro standing near his computer in his bedroom just opposite, and his heart raced to remember the videos he saw of the pizza-man fucking him like a professional . . . <em>three . . . there were three videos</em>. The footage was shaky and low quality, blatantly taken either from his bedroom window or the broken French doors. One seemed to be from his web-cam that he forgot to turn off. Keith ran a shaking hand over his face, while he went back to the VIP section to see himself being streamed on the screen from his web-cam yet again. There was only one person watching: Shiro. It seemed to be a brand-new feature.  </p><p>“You need to take this <em>down</em>,” said Keith.</p><p>“It’s on the dark web, it’s fine.” Shiro shrugged. “I mean, you’re a technological god, but how long did it take <em>you</em> to set it all up to be able to see the site? Plus, this technically is illegal. Did you forget that you’re only fifteen? No one is going to be openly spreading it around, not unless they’re into this shit or know it exists. It incriminates them, too, Keith.”</p><p>“So – So <em>why</em> did you even make this site?”</p><p>“It’s making me a fucking fortune in bitcoins. Do you know men will pay upward of five-hundred dollars to make a request? I mean, I started blackmailing you for my own pleasure, but when I started to share the videos on my private groups . . . one guy paid <em>seven-hundred </em>dollars to see you get facial from a stranger. I have one guy offering over a thousand for stuff like incest and bestiality from you, too, and a fetish guy wants to pay fifty for a used pair of underpants.”</p><p>“You – You – You’ve turned me into a fucking <em>whore</em>!”</p><p>“Yeah, and you <em>like</em> it, babe. I want you to keep your web-cam on all the time now, constant streaming so guys can see you get changed or masturbate or ‘entertain’ guests, and they’ll pay fifty-dollars a month for that pleasure. The requests and donations boxes will make the rest of our income; I’ll split the profits with you fifty-fifty. Go check the bank account I set up for you.”</p><p>Keith moved the mouse to the spare tab. The name of the bank was unfamiliar, and seemed something offshore on a glance, but it was legitimate and allowed Shiro a way to send converted bitcoins back into dollars for him . . . well, unless the bank converted them. He struggled to slow his racing heart. It was just one click and he would know what he made from his sexual acts, like this was just any other job with a pay-cheque . . . he stared at the tab until the word blurred and doubled . . . he shook his head and moved the mouse away.  </p><p>“Maybe later,” muttered Keith.</p><p>“Hey, just because you can’t <em>see</em> the cash you’re making, doesn’t mean that you’re not a whore that’s making money from sex acts . . . you’ve fucked Iverson, the three guys from the train, the pizza-guy, those five other guys that joined in at the bathroom . . . ten guys, Keith, ten.”</p><p>“And you’d have me spread my legs for more, if they pay, right?”</p><p>“Only if you want it, but . . . <em>yeah</em>.”</p><p>A strange silence came through the phone. Keith looked through his window into the bedroom opposite, where he saw Shiro staring back at him with an oddly hard edge, and his gaze moved continuously between man and screen, as he let out a shuddered breath. A movement caught his attention. It struck right in his peripheral vision, but the hit-count was moving on the live-stream of him that was visible to the paying members . . . three people, including Shiro, were now watching him. Keith felt his cock twitch. He gasped. Three people <em>wanted</em> him.</p><p>“Look, I’ve left you some toys and outfits,” said Shiro. “I also gave you a moderator role, so you can upload videos and see stats and accept requests, but you can’t delete anything or reject any requests . . . you should <em>see</em> what money you’re making. You could pay your way through college without any debt. You could even put money on a house or take a gap year to travel . . .”</p><p>It was tempting. The fact was that his mother never really sent child support, while his father put all his wages into the house and utilities, and there was sometimes a complete lack of cash in the house, enough that various doors and windows still needed to be fixed. He knew how much college cost. It was too much for a kid in poverty to afford, even if he could get another scholarship like the one to the Garrison, and he had <em>dreams</em> . . . it would mean everything to be an engineer or an architect or a technician. He bit into his lip, while Shiro whispered:</p><p>“Just think about it, okay?”</p><p>The call went dead. Shiro waved and walked out of his bedroom, where he turned off the lights as he left, and – now fully alone – Keith saw the hit-count drop to ‘two’ . . . two members meant a monthly income of a hundred dollars, which was fifty when split, and there would no doubt be more members, and not to mention the requests and donations. He could help with the rent, if he maybe pretended it was an inheritance or reward money or <em>something</em> to his father . . . it would pay for food, pay for utilities, pay for an education . . . insurance, healthcare . . .</p><p>Keith closed his eyes. He breathed deep. It took both of his trembling hands to grip the hem of his shirt and slowly pull it overhead, before tossing it across the room, and now – bare-chested – he noticed a donation of a couple of dollars on the side of the screen. He licked his lips and tweaked his nipples . . . a dollar more. Keith laughed. He ran his eyes over the request box again, before spotting one that stood out among all the others and made his erection twitch:</p><p>
  <em>‘I.Son – I want to break into your room and fuck you while you sleep - $500’.</em>
</p><p>Keith clicked ‘accept’.</p><p>* * *</p><p>
  <em>A stirring of arousal . . . </em>
</p><p>Keith half-stirred. It was a strange sensation, like falling reverse. He was light-headed and contented, with his body weightless and relaxed, and his mind was racing with barely formed dreams and images and words . . . his nerves were aflame, his muscles relaxed . . . almost like a body-massage that lured one into a deep sleep, only this was coaxing him awake. There was warmth around his member, with a rhythmic pulsing pressure. He moaned.</p><p>The sound of his moan forced his fluttering eyelids open to a slit. A vague figure was over him while his slept, almost hunched and primal and bestial over his lower legs and hips, and it provided a weight on either side of his waist, like pressing arms or hands. Keith cried out. The pleasure was intense around his cock, like a tongue lathing the underside and dipping underneath the ridge of the head, and occasionally it would flick at his slit. He clawed at the sheets, while he arched his back and groaned and sobbed and felt his mouth run painfully dry.</p><p>“Oh,” gasped Keith. “Oh fuck, oh god, oh shit . . .”</p><p>He bucked up into the waiting mouth, before his eyes focused. The shadowy figure over him was a black man with a bald head, whose fingers were deep inside him and mouth enveloped him, and it was so rare for the pleasure to be all about Keith . . . so rare for someone to pleasure him . . . tears pricked at his eyes, as his nerves tingled and burned. He rolled his hips, while his legs spread wide enough to make his joints ache, and – when Iverson pulled away – he sobbed and muttered incoherently, desperate for more touches and more kisses and more <em>anything</em> . . .</p><p>Keith did not have long to wait. A squirt of lubrication echoed out about the bedroom, while the bedroom doors – thrown wide open – revealed Shiro standing at a safe distance with a camera in his hand, and the red light on the web-cam showed it was streaming live. He had been prepped and stimulated while asleep . . . while people watched . . . he mewled and cried, as Iverson slicked his erection and hooked Keith’s legs over his shoulders. It was then he felt it:</p><p><em>Iverson was inside him</em>.</p><p>It was still that strange sensation, like needing to defecate and unable. The fullness also brought with it a familiar sting, something not quite painful and not quite pleasurable, but the head . . . <em>oh god, the head </em>. . . brushed against the prostate enough to make his cock twitch. Keith groaned. The inner walls clenched around Iverson, drawing him deeper, as his arousal burst alongside adrenaline . . . <em>wanting and not wanting, consent and not consent </em>. . . <em>at this man’s mercy . . . </em></p><p>Iverson slowly pulled out and pushed in, as if relishing in the intimacy, and his hands dropped on either side of Keith’s head, as Keith nearly bent in two with his legs still over those broad shoulders, and – for a brief moment – he wondered whether he would be able to suck his own cock while Shiro and the world watched from behind their lenses. The tickle of pubic hair would scratch against his buttocks, while balls brushed against his buttocks. Keith futilely fought back inescapable moans . . . <em>‘uh, oh, ah; please’ </em>. . . he screwed shut his eyes. Iverson whispered:</p><p>“God, I wish you were mine and mine alone.”</p><p>The fucking started in earnest. It was wild and deep and brutal, with squelching sounds as lubrication squirted out from the edges of his hole, and it slicked shiny his buttocks and thighs, while his cock wept with pre-come at an astounding rate. Iverson would pause every so often to apply more lubrication, before resting his weight on his lower legs to assume a more ‘standing’ position, and – hands on Keith’s legs – used the position to assume leverage and rhythm.</p><p>“You’re so fucking good!”</p><p>Keith fought for breath, bent in two and pounded hard. He let loose a string of low pants and gasps . . . <em>‘ah, ah, ah, ah’ </em>. . . his arms were flung over his head, while his back arched and his throat was bared, and the bedsprings squeaked loudly with every thrust. The headboard banged against the wall, echoing out almost in time to his heartbeat, and the pleasure rose and rose, as his cock twitched against his abdomen. It took all his strength to speak.</p><p>“L-Let me ride you,” gasped Keith. “P-Please.”</p><p>Iverson paused. He stopped balls deep inside Keith. He was coated in a thick sweat, one that shone in the moonlight, and he looked down with an eerily beautiful expression to Keith, one that gave him a youthful glow and took away the lines of time. Keith licked at his lips. He was red all over, with his body flush with arousal, and his pupils were blow impossibly wide, while a sweat of his own kept his hair slicked against his scalp. Iverson shuddered and choked:</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>. Fuck, fuck, fuck!”</p><p>Iverson pulled out. It left Keith empty and gaping, as his stretched hole winked and twitched and left his channel feeling like it was collapsing in on itself, but – as he sobbed and reached out for his lover – Iverson flung himself down on his back, making Keith bounce on the mattress. He followed by clawing at Keith and forcing him to sit astride a wide waist, while angling his cock clumsily at that sopping wet hole that was loose and awaited further usage.</p><p>Keith slid down to the base, as he slid his hands over Iverson. He let his fingers roam over the broad chest, while tickling and tweaking the nipples, and bent forward – as he bounced up and down, up and down – so that he could deliver a kiss that was more a brushing of tongue and occasional touching of lips. Neither man had the strength to kiss in earnest, both lost to arousal and desire and the incredibly lust that burned through every inch of skin. Keith started to bounce hard and fast, riding Iverson at just the right angle, and soon it was too much.</p><p>He came. It was an explosion of pleasure, which had his inner walls gripping Iverson like a vice, and his hands clawed hard enough at skin that he left long red marks. He arched his back enough that he feared it would break, while his vision vanished with sparks of colour, and his heart . . . his heart threatened to give out, as it beat impossibly fast and hard, while his orgasm refused to end. He shot ropes after ropes out come from his cock, choking on saliva, as Iverson screamed:</p><p>“Oh fucking hell!”</p><p>Iverson reached orgasm. He gripped so hard that bruises formed onto Keith’s hips; hot come flooded Keith’s insides and filled him to bursting point, and – finally catching his breath, finally coming down from the pinnacle of pleasure – he gazed down into that contorted face of orgasmic bliss, as Iverson screamed out a strange gurgled sound. Keith panted. He collapsed down on top of Iverson, while his inner walls still flickered and constricted around the softening cock.</p><p>They remained locked together in the most intimate of places, while Iverson kissed his cheek and neck and shoulders all over, with soft and warm lips that had him mewling and moaning afresh, as hands ran over every inch of Keith’s skin. They would even brush against the swollen lips of his anus, touching where the cock met the ring, and both men would shiver and sigh, as Iverson decided to focus on that spot with a keen interest. It massaged by the base of the penis and rim of his hole, until both were slowly working their way up to a second-round.</p><p>“Just for you -?” Keith moaned. “You – <em>only you</em> – don’t need to make ‘requests’. If Shiro charges you a fucking penny, you can tell him I’ll be going on strike . . . you can fuck me anyhow, anywhere, and any time . . . you’ll always have my consent. <em>Always</em>.”</p><p>Iverson was half-hard inside him. Keith wondered whether it was an admirable refractory period, or if – more likely – the seeming seconds had in reality been minutes or longer . . . <em>the warmth of another body, the moist breath on his skin . . . racing heartbeats slowing in tandem . . . </em>Keith smiled and kissed at Iverson’s neck. He closed his eyes, while he relished in the sense of peace . . . perfection . . . that came from being in the arms of someone so gentle, someone who loved him and wanted him on such an intimate level. Iverson whispered:</p><p>“So if I want to bend you over the desk and fuck you now -?”</p><p>The cock slowly slipped from his hole, complete with a wet and slapping sound. Keith rose from Iverson and left the bed with a sway of his hips, before walking obediently and willingly to the desk beside the computer. He leaned down on the wooden surface. He stuck his buttocks out enticingly towards Iverson, before adjusting the web-cam so that it was just inches from his face and recording every reaction head-on. Keith looked over his shoulder and breathlessly said:</p><p>“I’d say: ‘<em>fuck me, Sir’</em> . . .”</p><p>
  <em>* * * </em>
</p><p>Keith rolled onto his side.</p><p>A stray hand dropped onto the sheets. They were still warm, like someone had only just stood from a steady slumber, but – no matter how his hand desperately searched – every spot was empty . . . no sign of Iverson, no sign of anyone . . . Keith stirred awake. He let his eyes flutter open, while he stifled a large yawn with his other hand. It took all his strength to move his heavy and aching body into a sitting position, which proved to be a mistake.</p><p>The weight on his buttocks brought a low wince. It was a shooting pain that ran through his anus, like something torn or bruised deep inside, and he dropped back down onto his back, while his eyes ran about the bedroom in search of Iverson. The bedroom was dark, with only shadows to greet him as his eyes scoured every inch of space. The window was open. Its curtains and nets fluttered out in the breeze, while the garden beyond seemed empty and silent, as if someone had slipped out in a hurry. Keith rolled his eyes and took in a deep breath.</p><p>He pulled out his phone.</p><p>The bedroom still stank of sweat and sex and lubrication, while Keith scrolled through the necessary apps and programmes to access the website, and there – as predicted – was the latest video that sat waiting to be downloaded for personal ‘use’ by the masses. He let his finger hover over the button. Keith let loose a shuddered breath, while his heart beat fast and hard in his chest, but then he saw it . . . 2,068 downloads. It was the dark web, with a limited audience, and Keith had yet to see things get above 800 downloads. He finally checked his new bank account.</p><p>There was $8,205 all under his name in the account, while every video got more hits and more donations than the last. In total, if Shiro kept his word then he could be in line to earn a small fortune that most people could only dream about earning . . . $8k for only a few months of ‘work’ to date! Keith let his jaw drop. A burst of arousal shot to his groin, as his member twitched and jerked beneath the sheets, and his mouth ran dry, while his tongue traced a long line over his lips . . . <em>‘if the money keeps increasing, or even stays steady, I could get into any college of my choosing’ . . . </em>Keith looked back to the window. The sun was starting to come up over the horizon, while long shadows were cast over the lawn.</p><p>He whispered a low ‘fuck it’, as he logged onto the site with his moderator credentials. The member section with the live-stream was easy to find, albeit locked to anyone without a password, and the section seemed to allow for any streamed videos to be ‘recorded’, so that they could be specially viewed by anyone that accessed the front-page of the website. He carefully angled the camera in selfie-mode to show as much of his naked body as possible.</p><p>“Hey, guys,” murmured Keith. “It’s – er – it’s me . . . I was feeling h-hot and horny by some of your requests, so I just wanted to say –” Keith sighed and winced “– keep them coming, okay? I – I’ll try to get through as many as I can; anything is game, anything is okay . . .”</p><p>The comments on the right-hand box made his stomach churn . . . <em>‘I’d love to spit-roast him until he’s overflowing from both ends’, ‘if he’s such a bitch then I’ve a dog that’d love to breed him’, ‘fucking slut is just begging to be tied up in my basement’ </em>. . . bile broke on the back of his tongue, as he wondered what people like that would want to see, but he had come this far and the money was good. He forced a smile with trembling lips and whispered out:</p><p>“And I do mean anything . . .”</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>